Tartarus: Gehenna
by Domini Porter
Summary: The sequel to Tartarus. Jane and Maura-and Frost-set out to discover who and what is behind the catastrophe that changed their world forever. Danger! Conspiracy! Still zombies!
1. Down in the Valley

There was fire everywhere. There was blood.

There was a noise so loud she couldn't hear anything after, and ashes fell on her face like snow, and when she looked down she saw crimson ribbons and she saw the end of the world written in a pair of blank and shimmering eyes.

"Jane!"

The sudden brightness of fire making everything in her field of vision go white, the noise so loud she couldn't hear anything, the taste of smoke and ash, the sight of blood.

"Jane!"

She reached out, she held out her hands as though she could stop what was happening through sheer force of will, but the scarlet river in the snow kept flowing.

"Jane!"

She felt seasick, she felt like she was drowning, she couldn't breathe—

"Jane! Jane, honey, please wake up."

Jane's eyes flew open. It took her a moment to shake the blur of snow and blood from her brain, but after a few panicked seconds the world came into focus. Maura was leaning over her, eyes large and liquid with concern.

"You were having a nightmare," Maura said softly.

"And how," Jane mumbled.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"You know what it's like," Jane said, kissing Maura's hand. "Nothing new."

"I'm sorry," Maura whispered.

"What time is it?"

"Still dark."

Jane sighed and slipped her arm under Maura's, holding her close. Maura settled her head on Jane's chest. They lay in silence for a few moments.

"Do you think they'll ever stop?" Jane asked softly.

"I hope so," Maura murmured after a pause.

Jane pressed her lips to the crown of Maura's head, stroking the space between her shoulder blades until she felt Maura's breath becoming slow and even. She glanced toward the mostly blacked-out window, trying to get a sense of the hour. They hadn't had a reliable clock in months, though Maura had attempted to build a sundial that served them for their cloistered existence; Jane supposed as long as she and Maura and Frost could agree amongst themselves what time it was, that would have to be good enough.

* * *

Not knowing what time it was had been one of the most surprisingly difficult parts for Jane in adjusting to the new way of living. If anything, she would have thought Maura would have been the most affected, given her occasionally-infuriating fixation on promptness, though Jane supposed when you didn't have anywhere to be, knowing the hour wasn't as pressing. Still, she'd struggled. She realized knowing the time meant knowing how to contextualize the rest of the world, and the hope of _the rest of the world_ had been one she'd clung to.

Jane had never thought of herself as someone who relied on hope, yet every morning as she tried to make sense of the shadows cast on the dinner plate by the fork and spoon Maura had spent what Jane estimated to be hours calibrating, she felt it surging within her.

_Hope_.

They'd been hiding in an abandoned farmhouse miles from the nearest neighboring property for two months, the longest they'd stayed anywhere since the bloody finale at the house on the highway. Jane had insisted they move as often as possible, though finally an intense blizzard had forced them to make a more permanent temporary home. It had taken her several days to stop jumping at every creaking floorboard and flash of sunlight on the snow outside, but gradually her fears diminished and she gave herself over to the business of surviving the bitterly cold winter that had enveloped them.

_Summer and winter are mirrors. You always see the reflection of one in the other_.

To Jane's relief, the snows had stopped falling with such intensity a few weeks before; the sun had begun to shine with enough warmth to start melting the thick crust of ice covering the landscape. In order to access the outbuildings where the wood and canned goods were kept she and Frost had taken the pickaxe and heavy shovel they'd found in the mudroom and hacked a path that had gradually become a glass-smooth chute between doors. They'd made a series of bets on who could slide the farthest without falling, much to Maura's chagrin, though so far both had escaped injury more serious than mild snowburn from careening into the four-foot-high banks lining the path, though each passing day made their slalom slightly shorter.

Jane knew they'd need to move on as soon as the weather permitted; not only did she still keenly feel the danger they were in, she needed action, motion, purpose. Maura had adjusted the best of all of them to their living situation, resuming the domestic tasks she'd so briefly undertaken at the house in the clearing with Donna, though Jane could tell the pressure of such confined quarters was starting to get to her. Maura had been snapping at her much more frequently than usual, with a barely-repressed ferocity. Not even Frost had escaped her wrath, walking into the house with an armload of firewood without stomping the snow off his boots.

Still, of the three of them, Maura seemed the least eager to continue moving west.

"We have to, Maura," she'd said.

Maura had frowned, sighed, turned back to the weapon she'd been meticulously cleaning. She'd kept up target shooting in the absence of crawlers; once her shoulder had healed she'd been shooting at trees, cans off fences, anything she could find, though she refused to shoot at animals. Jane had simply shaken her head the first time Maura had put her rifle up rather than kill a squirrel, a part of her frustrated at Maura's stubbornness but a larger part touched by her compassion, relieved that it had survived their experiences mostly intact.

"I'll only kill what I need to," she'd said, "and you and Frost seem to positively enjoy slaughtering things, so I'll leave it to you."

"I don't understand you at all," Jane had replied, surprised at the flash of anger that had sizzled through her.

They hadn't spoken for nearly a whole day after that, until Frost had taken Jane aside and read her an abridged riot act.

"Jane," he'd said, "this place is a little too intimate for what we're dealing with, and I know it's no fun to fight with your girlfriend—trust me, I know—but it's probably _less_ fun for me to have to sit here in the middle of it, so just do me this favor and apologize, all right? Because I'm not gonna be your telephone. You go talk to her like a grown-ass adult and I don't know, fuck it out, 'cause I don't want to be in the middle of it, and this place is too small and it's too cold outside for me to get anywhere else."

Jane had grumbled, sworn under her breath, and found Maura in the attic room, leafing through one of the dozens of condensed book anthologies lining the shelves.

"You know," she'd said, not looking up, "_Anna Karenina _leave a lot to be desired when you shrink it down to a hundred pages."

"I only read the Cliffs Notes," Jane replied. "I probably got even less out of it than you did."

"She jumps in front of a train," Maura had said, still not looking at Jane.

"Please don't jump in front of a train," Jane smiled, crossing to her and kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry I was an ass."

"You weren't an ass. Well, not more than usual. But we're in extremely close quarters, so everything feels more intense."

"That's why we've got to keep moving," Jane had said. "I mean that, and the probability that some bad guys with bigger guns than we've got are out looking for us."

"Do you really think so? We've been here for weeks, we haven't seen a sign of life anywhere. Don't you think they'd have found us by now if they were looking?"

Jane had grimaced, crossed her arms, started pacing the room. "Okay, well, we've got to keep moving because, I don't know, what are we _doing_ here? I'm going crazy, Maura, not just because I'm stuck in this house with Frost all the time. I still don't know what's happening out there, what's going on in the world, if there are any people left here. And those guys who shot you, who almost killed all of us, don't you want to know what they're planning?"

"Not really," Maura had said, turning the page.

"But—"

"They almost killed all of us, Jane, you just said it yourself. I can't allow myself to believe that they'd neglect to complete the job should we find ourselves meeting again."

"But—"

Maura finally set her book down. "Jane," she'd said, gazing out the window, "I cannot let myself think of what would happen if something were to happen to you. Or Frost," she added. "But for reasons I feel are fairly obvious, my concern for your well-being is paramount." She'd turned to look at Jane, her face serious. "What reason to I have to keep going if not for you?" she asked quietly. "I mean it, Jane. I've learned how to survive, the barest elements of survival, but without you all that would be left would be breathing, eating, sleeping. That's not life. That's . . . existing."

"Don't say that," Jane had whispered, suddenly frightened in a way she didn't quite understand. "Maura, don't say things like that."

"Jane," she'd said softly, "you are the only reason I've gotten this far. If I were to lose you—"

"You won't. I'm not going anywhere, Maura. But we can't stay here, we have to leave, we have to keep moving, we have to find out something. Anything. I have to. Frost does. _You_ do, even if you don't think so right now."

"Please don't tell me what I need, Jane." She'd lifted her book back up. Jane had frowned. They didn't speak for the rest of the day. Frost had given Jane enough sideways glances to make her retreat to the woodshed, kicking at logs, cursing the cold.

* * *

Jane blinked slowly. She was a little surprised to see thin winter light filtering in around the blackout curtains they'd made from tablecloths and sheets, surprised that she'd managed to go back to sleep without falling into the terror of her dreams.

"Maura?" she whispered. Maura murmured wordlessly, still nestled close against her body. "Maura, I'm gonna get up, okay? You stay here, keep sleeping."

"I'm awake," she mumbled.

"No you're not." Jane smiled, kissed her head, disentangled herself from Maura's arms.

"Okay," Maura breathed, pulled the blankets tightly around herself. "Put on a sweater."

"I will," Jane whispered.

She slipped out of the bed, grabbing one of the thick sweaters she'd found in a closet, before padding into the chilly kitchen. Before the snows had started in earnest they'd moved frequently, making sure to collect whatever supplies they could find along the way. Jane set the cast-iron kettle on the woodstove and stoked up the glowing embers, then carefully poured a small amount of coffee grounds into the waiting French press. They'd all agreed on certain necessities, including taking whatever coffee they found, and had amassed a small plantation's worth of beans to their collective relief.

Jane sat at the kitchen table staring out the window for a few moments, watching the sun inch up over the treeline. She noticed a few patches of bare ground under eaves and dense bushes, and felt a surge of excitement.

_We can leave soon_.

She didn't have any idea where they'd go, but the desire to move, to keep searching, burned in her more strongly by the day. Even Maura had begun joining the conversations about what the next steps would be, and although they still hadn't made a firm plan the idea was to find a vehicle and keep moving west, looking for survivors, looking for clues as to what had happened, looking for the men who had tried to kill them all, though Jane had been careful not to talk about that part in front of Maura. She suspected Maura knew, though; the way Maura would rub at the scar on her shoulder whenever they discussed their plans made Jane wonder if there wasn't some part of her that wanted vengeance.

_It's not about vengeance. It's about justice. It's about the truth._

Jane said the words to herself over and over, working hard to make herself believe them. But when she saw Maura's scar, when she felt the faint ache in her arm from her own glancing gunshot wound, when she thought about her mother, about her brothers, about Korsak and everyone she'd known and loved and lost because of the actions of some faceless men hidden away from the shattered world they'd engineered, vengeance was the first thing that swelled up in her.

_We have to find them. They came for us, so now we're coming for them_.

She though about Maura, still burrowed snugly in the bed.

_This is for you, Maura. This is for us. They took everything away from us, we need to take it back_.

The sunlight glinted off the jagged icicles lining the eaves; with every drop of water that pitted the snow below she felt the anticipation building in her chest. They'd be able to leave soon. They'd be able to start.


	2. The Word

When she woke up, Jane was gone.

Maura frowned, still blinking the sleep from her eyes. She strained her ears, hearing only the steady drip of the icicles melting from the eaves, the faint chirp of birds. After a moment, however, she heard a crash from somewhere in the house and Jane's barely-audible oath. She smiled drowsily, stretching her arms above her head.

It was nearly spring. She estimated it to be somewhere around the end of March; she'd tried to keep a reliable calendar but the events of the past few months had disrupted her timekeeping. Still, the days were longer and the sun was warmer; the snow had melted down to reveal patches of limp and tangled grass. They would have to leave soon.

Maura wasn't excited by the prospect; she hadn't relished the living situation they'd found themselves in but at least it felt safe, it felt consistent. She could see Jane vibrating with the need to move on, to keep searching, and she supposed there were times when she felt the intense pressure of their confinement, though she wasn't sure she was ready to start running again. Still, the look on Jane's face as she stared west into the sunset caused a pang of guilt.

Maura knew staying where they were had the potential to cause them trouble although she hadn't seen any sign so far. More than that she saw Jane's mounting unhappiness, even Frost's, and she had begun resigning herself to the idea that sooner or later they'd be back on the road, though she hadn't expected it would be so soon.

Before she'd even managed to pull on a pair of trousers Jane came bursting into the room, clutching something in her hand.

"Maura!" she nearly shouted.

"What? What is it? Calm down," Maura said, frowning.

"Look," Jane said, thrusting her hand out. A crumpled piece of paper rested on her palm.

Maura picked it up, still frowning slightly. "What is it?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are you showing it to me?"

"Just look at it, Maura, and tell me what you think."

Maura smoothed out the slip of paper, no bigger than a receipt. "Eighty-one," she read, "seventy-eight, one-eighty three, two twenty-two, township four-thirty-one." She looked up at Jane. "What is this?"

"Frost found it," Jane said. "In the mailbox. It's not your handwriting, right?"

"No," she said. "Why was Frost looking in the mailbox?"

"The flag was up," Jane said impatiently. "What do you think?"

"What do I think of the flag being up?"

"God, Maura!" Jane cried. "Of the note! What do you think of the note?"

"I don't know," she frowned. "It could be . . . I don't know, Jane, it could be anything."

"Well, it couldn't be _anything_. Frost only noticed it today, noticed that the flag was up, I mean."

"How do you know it hasn't been like that for weeks?"

"Because of the snow, Maura, and because this piece of paper wasn't inside anything watertight and because there may not be any police departments any more but that doesn't make us not detectives."

"Okay," Maura said softly. "Sorry."

"Someone was _here_," Jane said, pacing back and forth between the bed and the door. "Someone was here, at this house, and they left this for us."

"That's an awfully big assumption," Maura said, though the words felt unnecessarily cautious, even to her.

"It's not, Maura. How long has it been since you've seen someone else's handwriting? Aside from the grocery lists the Coles left on their refrigerator?" Jane asked, jerking her thumb toward the kitchen. "If this had been left before, it would've totally disintegrated. I'm not even a scientist and I was able to put that together."

"I don't want to jump to any conclusions, Jane, especially not when those conclusions could put us all in danger. Suppose someone _did_ leave this; discounting any further inquiry into what the message means, what do you think it means that someone was here and didn't come up to the house? That they knew _we _were here—_just supposing _—and left this specifically for us to find? Why not knock on the door? Assuming—and I'm only willing to assume because of the apocalypse, Jane, get that look off your face—assuming it _was_ someone and they _were _here recently-"

"Today," Jane cut in.

"—recently, then they must have a vehicle, they must have some way to move around, they must have access to technology that would allow them to get here and leave without us knowing."

"They could've walked."

"It's five miles to the nearest house, twenty-five to what's left of the nearest town. And I don't know that you've noticed, since you seem particularly averse to warm clothing, but it's quite cold outside, especially at night, which is when this hypothetical person or persons would have had to have left this, if they'd come on foot."

"Frost didn't see any tire marks."

"Did he see any footprints?" Maura asked. Jane squinted at her as though she desperately wanted the answer to be _yes_, but shook her head. "Well, the snow has melted from quite a lot of the paved road," Maura continued. "It's possible they wanted to escape detection and so used alternate routes or perhaps drove on a different road and walked a shorter distance to the mailbox."

"So you're saying it's definitely someone who isn't us and it definitely came today."

"That's not at all what I'm saying," Maura sighed.

"But you're saying it _could_ be that."

"It could also be some fluke of atmospherics; perhaps the conditions inside the mailbox were weatherproof enough to enable a scrap of paper to survive both freeze and thaw."

"Okay," Jane sighed, "which sounds more likely? I mean, scientifically."

Maura hesitated. She didn't want to encourage Jane's guesswork, but she had to admit it did seem more likely that the paper had arrived recently, as opposed to weathering the harsh winter.

"Scientifically," she said slowly, "it does seem less likely that a scrap of paper this insubstantial would have been able to endure the changes in temperature and humidity without significant degradation, at least to the ink."

"So it came today," Jane said, grabbing the paper back from her and turning to run out of the room.

"I didn't _say_ that, Jane," Maura cried.

"Close enough," Jane groaned. "Seriously."

"Fine," Maura folded her arms. "Whatever."

"Don't 'whatever' me," Jane said, affronted. "Maura, this is evidence. This is a _clue_. Do you have any idea how long me and Frost have gone without clues to _anything_? And come on," she smiled slyly, crossing back to her. "Don't try to tell me you're not interested."

"I . . ." Maura frowned slightly. "I _might_ be interested," she admitted after a pause. "It _has_ been such a long time since we've had any indication of human life outside of myself and Frost," she said, not pausing to acknowledge Jane's affronted grimace. "I'm still not entirely sure I feel comfortable with this, though."

"With what?" Jane raised her eyebrow, trying her best to look innocent.

"With whatever it is you and Detective Frost have been planning since he brought you that piece of paper," she said.

"We haven't been planning anything," Jane argued lamely. "Okay, we've been planning like _one_ thing, but it's pointless until we figure out what it means."

Maura sighed. "Let me see it again," she said, holding out her hand. Jane hastily smoothed the paper and gave it to her. She stared intently at it for a moment, biting her lower lip as she tried to parse the set of numbers.

"Coordinates, maybe? Though they don't look like any latitude or longitude I've seen."

"Of course!" Jane shouted, grabbing the paper back from her. "You're a genius!" She grabbed Maura's arms and kissed her suddenly before darting out the door.

"But what did I-" Maura sighed, then retrieved the trousers she'd been reaching for before Jane had burst into the room.

Once dressed she went into the kitchen where Jane and Frost sat at the corner of the table, huddled over the scrap of paper. Jane had pulled out an unwieldy roadmap. "This stops at Susquehanna County," she was saying, scowling at the map in frustration.

"Yeah, but at least it's a step in the right direction," Frost said encouragingly.

"What's a step in the right direction?" Maura asked, pouring herself a cup of weak coffee.

"It's not coordinates, Maura," Jane said, looking up excitedly. "Not exactly—it's directions. Eighty-one, that's gotta be I-81, south into Pennsylvania. The rest of the numbers, they must be interstates or highways, and 'township 431,' that's probably some unincorporated county road or something."

"I suppose," Maura said slowly. "It would make sense, since the 78 cuts east-west across most of the state."

Frost and Jane stared at her.

"Odd numbers are north-south, even numbers are east-west," she shrugged. "I-78 goes into New York City."

"See?" Jane punched Frost's shoulder. "We don't even need a map, we've got Maura."

"We need a map, Jane," Maura frowned, her brow furrowing. "I have a basic knowledge of some highway systems, but this seems-"

"So we're going!" Jane crowed. "Come on, Frost, let's start saddling up."

"Jane!" Maura cried. "I need to think about this!"

"Think about what? Whether or not to follow this lead? This first solid evidence that there are other people in the world besides us? I mean, Frost's okay—"

"Thank you," he said skeptically.

"—and you know I think you're great, but come _on_, Maura, this is _exciting_."

Maura folded her arms again, looked at Jane sternly.

"We'll do all the right stuff," Jane mumbled. "Guns, bullets, food, water, medicine. All that stuff. Come _on_, Maura!" she said again. "_Please?_"

* * *

The drive south through New York State had been mostly uneventful, save for Jane's insistence that they listen as loudly as possible to the battered _Led Zeppelin III _cassette she'd found stuffed under the seat of the Cutlass when searching for spare keys.

"People are idiots," she announced as she held a scuffed leather key fob aloft. "If you're gonna keep a spare set with the car, why would you leave them _inside_?"

"To help out the people who need to borrow your vehicle after the government unleashes a sinister plot to turn everyone into the crawling undead?"

Neither Frost nor Jane had laughed, but both had shaken their heads in tolerant resignation, which Maura supposed was good enough.

They'd traveled down the eerily empty highway for hours, snow still clinging heavily to the landscape, though the runoff was beginning to turn the culverts lining the roads into small rushing rivers.

"We're only stopping for gas," Jane had announced as they climbed into the slightly-dented Oldsmobile.

"If you're driving, you're siphoning," Frost shot back. Jane looked as though she wanted to retort, but clutched at the keys for a moment before shrugging in agreement.

"This Robert Plant, he's a very good guitar player," Maura said after the third repetition of "Since I've Been Loving You." Jane groaned.

"Jimmy Page is the guitarist, Maura, jeez."

"Well, I'm sorry," Maura huffed, "not everybody spent their teen years getting loaded and listening to rock and roll while the quarterback tried to put the moves on them in the back of his father's Dodge."

Jane turned to look at her, eyes narrowed. "When did I tell you about that?"

"You didn't. I guessed."

"Do you hear that, Frost? Dr. Isles guessed!"

Frost rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't a postulation outside the realm of likelihood," Maura said, making eye contact with Frost in the rearview mirror. He snickered.

"Fuck both of you," Jane muttered. "It was _one time_. And what did you do, listen to Bach with the headmaster's son while sipping Earl Grey in the rose garden?"

"It was the headmaster's daughter, actually," Maura smirked. Frost nodded approvingly as Jane jerked the wheel to keep the car on the road. "I believe we've had quite enough experience with you not paying attention to your driving, Jane," Maura chided her, though she was smiling at Frost in the rearview the whole time.

"Whoa, Jane, there it is," Frost cried suddenly. "Junction 78."

"Watch this," Jane grinned. She jerked hard on the wheel as she braked abruptly, the car whirling around the deserted road, snow spraying in great white blasts.

"Jane!" Maura cried, clinging to the armrest. "You're going to kill us!"

"Benefit of hanging out in the quarterback's dad's Dodge," Jane said triumphantly, "nobody can turn a donut as tight as I can."

"I'm just gonna . . . I'm just gonna leave that right there," Frost said, looking a little green at the gills as Jane steered the car onto the off-ramp.

"East or west?" Jane looked at Maura expectantly.

"I have no idea!" she cried. "I told you we needed a map."

"Looks like it only goes east," Frost said weakly from the backseat.

Jane frowned. "But I _know_ we're supposed to be heading west," she muttered.

"There's a Buddhist saying-" Maura began.

"All right, all right," Jane cut in, swinging the car back east. "We'll just go this way."

"Don't you want to hear what Lama-"

"No," Jane said. "I mean, maybe later?"

Maura sighed and shook her head. The opening riff of "Immigrant Song" blared through the speakers as Jane tore down the snowy freeway.

After a few more hours, as the light was fading, Maura spotted a sign for Highway 183. "This way!" she cried, excited despite herself. _Well,_ she thought, _we've come so far already, what's a few more miles?_

The sun was beginning to set fully when they reached Highway 222, and it was nearly too dark to see the small, battered sign indicating the turn for Township 431, but Frost, who had been studiously ignoring Jane and Maura's playful sniping, had caught it just before they sailed past.

Jane carefully inched the Oldsmobile down the rough stretch of road; it was a poorly-maintained dirt track, deeply rutted even with a foot of slowly-melting snow covering it. "Okay," she breathed, "now I'm a little nervous."

"_Now_ you're nervous?" Maura said, throwing up her hands. "I'm afraid it's too late to turn around, Jane."

"Nobody's turning around," Jane grumbled. "Frost, you turning around?"

"Only so I don't have to look at you in the mirror any more."

"Hey," Jane said, "I did my hair nice just for you." She fluffed at a straggling curl that had missed the loose knot at the nape of her neck.

"Uh-huh," Frost said.

"I'm gonna gun it," Jane said after a brief silence. "It'll be fun."

"Your definition of 'fun' is very different from most peoples'," Maura said, pre-emptively clutching the armrest again. "I'd advise you to hold on, Detective Frost," she added.

"Way ahead of you, Doc," Frost called from the back, his hand wrapped around the shoulder strap of his seatbelt.

"Here we go!" Jane shouted, flipping the volume as high as it would go for half a second before Maura turned it back down. Jane rolled her eyes and punched the gas, snow spitting out from under the tires.

"Jane!" Maura shouted suddenly, after they'd gone no more than fifty feet. "Stop!"

"We're fine," Jane said. "We're only going what, like 40 right now? American cars," she sighed.

"No, Jane, _stop!_"

Jane glanced at her, frowning. Maura was pointing straight ahead at a faint shape lumbering out of the near-darkness.

Jane pressed on the brake pedal, the car shuddering to a halt.

The figure drew nearer. "Frost," Jane whispered.

"Yeah," he said, lifting his pistol just above his lap.

"Maura, do you have your—"

"Of course," Maura said, touching the barrel of the rifle tucked between the passenger seat and the door.

"Everybody be cool," Jane said. "I'm gonna get out."

"No!" Maura and Frost cried at once.

Jane didn't reply, but cracked the car door open. The figure kept advancing.

Jane stuck her head out the door, made sure her weapon was visible. "Hello?" she called.

"English." The man's voice was raspy, rough, as though unused to speaking loudly, though they were all able to hear it despite the man being several yards away. "You are not welcome here."

"We're—we're uhh—" Jane looked at Maura and Frost frantically. They both shrugged. "We got directions?" she said.

The man stopped, still too far away to see clearly, though Maura was able to make out a heavy rough-spun cloak and a broad hat.

"Amish," she whispered. "Turn off the car, Jane. Put your gun down."

"This guy doesn't seem real friendly, Maura," Jane whispered back.

"He's unarmed. Put your gun down, he won't talk to you otherwise."

Jane glanced at her once more, unsure.

"Just do it, Jane," Frost said. "I'm freezing and hungry and I gotta piss like a racehorse. Apologies, Dr. Isles."

"No need," Maura said, not taking her eyes off the man in the hat.

He watched them silently for a few moments until Jane lowered her pistol. "Okay," she called. "I put my gun down."

"How did you come to be here?" he asked, his voice tinged with an odd accent.

"Like I said," Jane said, edging out of the vehicle. Maura unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her own door; Frost did the same. "We got directions."

"Who gave them to you?"

"We don't know. Do you know?"

The man regarded them for a long beat. "Come with me," he said finally. "Leave your guns in your vehicle, we do not allow them."

Jane looked at Maura. She nodded. "Let's go, Jane. We're in no danger. At least, we shouldn't be."

"Famous last words," Jane muttered.

The man in the hat had already started moving back the direction he came.

"Come on," Maura said, feeling unusually bold. "Let's go."

* * *

A/N: I once lived in the Midwest and all I really remember are distinct seasons and the wooden flute I got in the Amish-themed tourist trap. PS: things are gonna get innnnnnnteresting!


	3. Ordnung

"Maura," she whispered.

Maura shook her head imperceptibly.

The man who had met them at the road was leading them down a dark path illuminated only by the oil lamp he carried. _Jakob Helmuth_, he'd said warily, and only after Jane, Maura, and Frost had introduced themselves.

"Old Order Amish," Maura whispered as they followed a few paces behind him. "Extremely isolated, distrustful of outsiders."

"Why'd he tell us to follow him, then?"

"Well, they use the Bible as the only set of rules for living a faithful life, and that includes the tenets of charity and humility."

"I guess," Jane had whispered. "At least it's that, and not any of the parts that involve stoning."

Jakob glanced back at them, scowling slightly. Jane bit her lip. Her hand drifted over her hip, feeling the empty holster. She frowned, wishing she'd managed to bring a weapon.

"But didn't it seem like he was . . . I don't know, _expecting_ us? Or, at the very least, not at all surprised to see us."

"Some sects take great pains to avoid any contact at all with the outside world," Maura whispered. Frost quickened his pace to match theirs, listening. "It's possible they haven't seen any English—"

"English?" Jane frowned at her.

"Outsiders," Maura said quickly. "It's possible they haven't seen anyone like us since before it happened. They may not even _know_ it happened."

"I don't know if I should be nervous or jealous," Jane whispered.

"That makes two of us," Frost muttered. Then, "look." He pointed to a clearing, a large, plain house sitting in the middle. Candles burned in the windows, the overgrown yard more a field strewn with manual farm equipment that appeared to be decades old. Jakob didn't acknowledge them but headed straight onto the porch, hanging his lantern on a hook next to the door before disappearing inside.

"Should we . . . go in?" Jane asked.

"I doubt he brought us out here for our health," Frost said.

"Fuck, I wish I had my gun."

"That's two things I'd try to refrain from," Maura said. "Profanity and bloodlust. In fact, it'll probably be best if you just don't say anything at all."

"But-" her mouth dropped open.

Frost eyed Jane with intense skepticism.

"Fine," she muttered. "I'll try."

They stood in the dusk-dim yard for a moment, unsure of what to do. Jane unconsciously reached for her weapon again. "God . . . uh . . . darn," she whispered. "Sorry."

The front door swung open again, and a young woman with a sweet smile stepped onto the porch. "Please," she said, stepping aside, "come in. It's warm inside. We were just about to sit down to supper, we've added seats for you."

They stood for a beat, surprised by the young woman's warmth. "Um, yes, of course," Maura stammered. "Thank you, you're so kind."

"Hebrews 13:2," the young woman smiled. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." She blushed. "I'm sorry," she murmured, looking down. "I shouldn't have said that. Please, come in." She turned toward the door.

Jane glanced at Maura, confused. _Humility_, Maura mouthed. Jane cast her another befuddled look, but followed her up the steps into the house. Frost followed behind warily, glancing back in the direction they'd come from.

Inside, the young woman—Anna—had shown them to their seats at the long, unadorned table. Candlelight glowed from the windows; above them a plain glass oil lamp offered a brighter light though it wasn't enough for Jane to feel like she could memorize all the faces looking at her, registering everything from curiosity to, like Jakob seated at the head of the table, a barely-restrained loathing.

When everyone was seated—Jane counted nine people, not including the three of them, five women and four men—Jakob bowed his head. The rest of the faithful followed suit. Jane glanced at Maura, inwardly rolling her eyes when she saw her head bowed, but when she glanced at Frost and saw his head bowed in kind she sighed softly and dropped her eyes to the floor.

Jakob said a prayer in a German that sounded even more foreign than usual to Jane. After what felt to her like half a century, he intoned a low _Amen, _eliciting a ripple around the table.

Two of the women seated near the foot of the table stood up and retrieved dishes from a low sideboard, and once Jane realized _supper_ meant _hot food_ she realized she'd been hungry for months. The thousand questions buzzing around her brain, even though she knew she'd get in trouble with Maura and Frost for asking them, receded momentarily as she accepted the offered dishes.

Once they'd eaten, Jakob stood up at his place. The assembled plainfolk, not chatty to begin with, immediately fell silent. Jane reached carefully under the table and squeezed Maura's hand, hoping nobody would notice. Maura didn't react outwardly to Jane's touch, but returned the soft pressure.

"You may stay with us until it is safe for you to travel," Jakob said without prelude. His accent was heavier than Jane had thought at first. "We understand there has been a great . . . _Unglück_," he muttered, looking at the younger man seated at his right.

"Misfortune," Maura murmured.

"Yes," Jakob said, eying her suspiciously. He stared at her as he continued in the same strange German.

"_Es tut mir leid, __ich __spreche kein __Deutsch __Pennsylvania_," Maura said softly, looking up at him. Jakob looked at her, a mix of triumph and faintly grudging respect on his otherwise impassive face.

"We are sorry for your suffering," Jakob went on. "But we can do nothing for you save offer you a meal and a roof. We do not wish to have continued English interference in our lives."

Jane moved to speak, but Maura squeezed her hand under the table. _Continued_? she mouthed to Frost, who shrugged.

"That's very kind," Maura said. "We're very sorry to trouble you, and we thank you for your hospitality. We hope to move on soon, but we were given what appeared to be a message directing us to this place."

Jakob frowned deeply. "Anna," he said, still not looking away from Maura, "take them upstairs."

Anna stood, then bobbed in a short bow. "Yes, Father," she said. "Please come with me," she smiled, turning to Jane and Maura and Frost. They stood and followed her out of the room. Jane glanced back uneasily at the suddenly expressionless faces watching their departure.

"What did he mean, 'continued interference'? Who else has been here? And since when do you speak German?" Jane hissed at Maura as soon as they were out of earshot of the rest. She glanced at Anna, who appeared to be trying to hide the fact that she was listening.

"I learned Standard German in school, though I realize I'm quite rusty. Pennsylvania German is descended from the Northern German dialects, but it evolved in this region into its own distinct form, and I'm afraid I don't understand it very well."

Jane just sighed.

"You notice they all got real quiet when Jakob talked about our . . . misfortune?" Frost chimed in.

"Yeah, so someone's clearly been here from the outside since it happened. But five months ago? Five days ago?"

"I'm sorry," Anna said suddenly, "but please let me show you what Father meant." She paused in front of a closed door at the end of the hallway and knocked softly. Jane glanced at Maura and Frost.

After a short silence Jane heard the sound of a latch being opened and the door swung inward, revealing a softly-lit room and a young woman wearing jeans and a down jacket standing just inside.

"Carmen," Anna said, her voice soft and pleasant. "These are some new travelers Father met tonight. Jane, and Maura, and Barry. My new friends, this is Carmen, she came to us several nights ago much as you did, and has been waiting for the weather to allow her to move on, as you are."

Jane couldn't help staring. She was the first real person Jane had seen who wasn't Maura or Frost in months not counting the Amish who gave her a faint chill, even Anna, beaming angelically in the doorway.

"Well," Anna said after a moment, "I'll leave you to make your introductions." She retreated out of the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind her.

"Hello," Carmen said. "I'm so glad to see you."

"I'm sorry?" Jane frowned. "Who are you? How did you get here?"

"My name is Carmen Gutierrez," she said, crossing to the desk and pulling a battered leather wallet out of a nylon backpack. "This is—this _was_—my husband, Ron." She held out a photograph of a clean-cut young man, his dark hair meticulously parted and combed. He was wearing a suit and tie, it looked to Jane like a professional headshot.

"He looks nice?" Jane said. "Why are you showing this to me?"

"Ron works—worked—works, I don't know, he was with State," Carmen said, dropping the wallet back into the backpack.

They stood, speechless, for a moment.

"More CIA," Jane said after a beat. "Fucking great."

"Where is he?" Maura asked, ignoring Jane. "You said he _was_ your husband, but then you referred to him working in the present tense."

"He came here with me, we were in DC up until a few days before. You know. Before . . . _it_ happened."

Maura nodded.

"One day he came into the house and said 'babe, we're getting out of here,' and that was it. I packed a bag and got in the car and we drove out to Lancaster where Ron's family had a summer place and he said I had to stay there no matter what, and then he left again and I didn't see him until just a few weeks ago."

"And you didn't ask any questions?" Jane frowned.

Carmen smiled bitterly. "Ron's not the kind of guy you question," she said.

"Where is he now?"

Carmen shrugged. "He left. This morning. Or last night. When I woke up he was gone."

"And you didn't-"

"Jane," Frost cut in, touching her arm. Jane glanced at him and he grinned slightly, lifting his eyebrows. Jane's eyes slid back to Carmen, then once more to Frost.

She made brief eye contact with Maura, who lifted an eyebrow in faint confusion. She lifted her palms into the air and folded her arms.

"So, Ms. . . . Gutierrez," Frost said.

"Carmen," she smiled.

"Oh brother, _already_," Jane muttered under her breath.

"Carmen. You say your husband works for the State Department?"

She nodded.

Frost chuckled and shook his head.

"What? What did I say?"

"And he made you leave DC _before_ the outbreak."

"Yes."

"And he took you to a family home, had you ever been there before?"

"No," she said, confused. "Why are you asking me these questions?"

"Safehouse," Frost said, shaking his head again. "Just like the one Donna was in."

"What's going on?" Carmen asked, looking at each of them in turn. "Who's Donna?"

"Donna was an agent," Maura said suddenly. Jane realized she'd taken a small step back as soon as Carmen had told them her husband's employer. "She betrayed us and nearly killed all of us herself. She was complicit in the bombing of a hospital with over a hundred innocent women and children in it. She was complicit in the government program that caused all of this destruction and horror to happen."

Jane glanced down and saw Maura's hands balled so tightly into fists her knuckles were nearly glowing white in the dim candlelight.

Maura had never told Jane exactly what had happened between her and Donna, had never talked to Jane about shooting her, but Jane and Frost had both quickly learned to avoid the subject if they wanted to avoid the discomfort of Maura's pointed dismissals. She'd never seen Maura react so viscerally to the mention of Donna's name before, though.

"I don't know anything about that," Carmen whispered, taking a step back of her own. "I swear, I just stayed at the house Ron took me to until he showed up there and brought me here last week."

Jane didn't stop watching Carmen as she moved to Maura's side, putting her arm around Maura's back, squeezing her briefly. Her hand drifted down and settled protectively at the curve of Maura's hip, free hand wrapped lightly around Maura's bicep. She rubbed at Maura's arm with her thumb until she saw her fists go slack, her hands falling open at her sides.

"You okay?" she murmured so only Maura could hear.

"Fine," Maura whispered, her voice tight.

"Well, Carmen, your husband took you to a safehouse designed to protect you from exactly what happened to everyone else," Frost said.

"So maybe he was a better guy than we think," Jane muttered.

Carmen laughed. "Don't bet on it," she said. "He was probably worried I would've somehow survived and gone after him for deserting me."

"Would you have? Gone after him, I mean."

She eyed Jane skeptically. "Not on your life. I was so relieved when he left me in Hershey. I was finally starting to believe he wasn't coming back and then bam, there he is, on the doorstep, telling me to pack a bag again." She glanced at the three of them, sighed, sat on the small bed. "Look," she said. "We had a terrible marriage and spent most of it apart. But he was very strong, very . . . authoritarian. I think it was his work, even though like all good spooks he never said exactly what it was he did. But I'm not dumb. Obviously he's involved in whatever it was that happened. He's gone now, but who knows for how long, or what he's doing, or where he is. Except," she said, "if he had anything to do with all this, with the crawlers, with the bombs, with that hospital," she looked directly at Maura, "I hope he's dead, and I hope it took a long time for him to die."

She folded her arms and looked out the window.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

"You, uh, you said you were glad to see us," Jane said finally. "Do you know anything about this?" She dug the scrap of paper from the New York mailbox out of her pocket, smoothed it, held it out to Carmen who took it, scrutinizing it carefully for a moment.

"No," she said. "Directions?"

"Good guess."

"'Township 431' kinda let the cat out of the bag on that one," she said wryly.

"You didn't leave it in a mailbox about fifty miles southeast of Syracuse?"

"The only time I've spent in Syracuse was bailing my uncle out of jail," Carmen replied. Frost snorted. Jane glared at him.

"What about your husband, could it be his handwriting?"

"Ron's really good at his job," Carmen said. "I couldn't tell you what his real handwriting looks like."

Jane crumpled the paper up again, paced the small room. "Okay. You say he left this morning?"

"No," she said. "I said he left last night _or_ this morning; he was gone when I woke up."

"And you didn't notice him leaving?" Jane asked, indicating the narrow bed.

"He slept on the floor," Carmen said, lifting an eyebrow.

Jane made a few more tight circles around the room. "So what did you mean by 'glad to see us'?"

"What, you mean these guys don't freak you out a little bit?"

Jane paused. Carmen had a point.

"And anyway, you're the first . . . I guess 'real' people I've seen in months. Except Ron. And his friend, I didn't get her name."

Jane spun on the ball of her foot, faced Carmen. "_Her_ name?"

"Yeah, it was a woman. She was in the car when Ron came and got me in DC."

Jane glanced at Maura, would've sworn her gun hand was twitching. Frost looked on impassively.

"Can you describe her?" Jane asked carefully.

Carmen furrowed her brow. "You know," she said, "I got a pretty good look at her, but . . . actually, no, I can't. She looked like . . . just a person, you know?"

"Yeah," Jane muttered. "I know."

"That's so weird," Carmen said, still frowning. "I can't remember her face at all, really. She didn't say anything, though. Just sat in the backseat while Ron drove. He didn't say anything either, before you ask," she added pointedly. "But he never did. Does. Did."

"So you weren't expecting us," Frost said. Carmen looked at him and laughed, surprised.

"No, of course not. But I'm sure as hell glad you're here. Do you have a car?"

Frost and Jane glanced uneasily at each other, then both looked back at Maura, still watching Carmen with a blank face.

"Look," Carmen said abruptly, standing up and taking a tentative step toward Maura. "Maura, right? Look, Maura, I'm really, really sorry about what happened to you. I swear to you I don't know anything about it. I _swear_. I married a man who lies for a living, I can't even afford to believe in what I _know_ is true. But please, I'm in the same boat you are. Everyone I love is dead, as far as I know. Ron—Christ, who knows what Ron's doing or why he bothered to save me. But here I am, and here you are, and if you have a car and will at least take me back to Lancaster I'll be eternally grateful and forever in your debt."

Carmen exhaled, knitting her fingers together nervously as she watched Maura's face.

"Can you shoot?"

"Yes," Carmen whispered, sagging with what looked to Jane like relief. "I used to hunt with my father."

"Can you defend yourself?"

"Yes."

"Do you know anything about medicine?"

"I met Ron when I was in nursing school. I didn't finish," she said quickly. "Because of him. But I made it through a year and half."

"To Lancaster?" Maura's voice betrayed nothing, though Jane was beginning to suspect they were going to have to start splitting the coffee four ways.

"Yeah, it's only about forty miles."

Maura bit her lip, frowned.

"You should come with us," she said.

"Maura—"

"She may know more than she thinks she does," Maura said. "And we may find something in Lancaster."

"We'll find guns at least," Frost said, "if it really was a safehouse like the others."

"There were a couple of doors I didn't have the keys to," Carmen said. "I figured they were just linen closets or something."

Jane and Frost exchanged glances.

"So . . ." Jane trailed off, looking back at Maura.

"So," Maura said, making an effort to lighten her tone. "While this is certainly a fascinating case study in cultural anthropology, I don't know that I'd be able to find a scholarly journal still accepting submissions."

"Good job, Maura!" Jane said, chuckling. "Jokes aren't her strong suit," she explained to a confused-looking Carmen.

"I'm told I'm getting better."

"Who told you that?"

"Detective Frost."

"Frost!" Jane groaned.

"What?" Frost grinned. "She is."

"All right," Carmen said slowly, "uh, well, I'm gonna go find Anna, she's the most normal one here. I mean, no disrespect or anything, but . . . you know. She's nice. So they can find you places to sleep, I mean."

Jane nodded. Carmen smiled at them nervously, then left the room.

"You okay, Maura?"

"Her husband knew Donna," Maura said. "He _worked_ with her. He _must_ know something, Jane, and Carmen too, even if she doesn't think so."

"You believe her?" Jane asked gently.

"I do," Maura replied, looking at Jane gravely. "I believed Donna to be a good person until she knocked me out and shot you. It seems clear that there's more going on here than any of us knows about. But we have a solid lead now, at least."

"See?" Jane crowed excitedly. "I _knew_ you'd love clues."

"I don't love clues, Jane," Maura smiled, "but I love _you_, and I owe it to you, and to Frost—" Frost had looked away, slightly embarrassed by hearing Maura's declaration—"and I owe it to everyone who has lost their lives because of these people to find out what's going on."

Jane grinned crookedly. "I knew you couldn't resist," she murmured, touching Maura's cheek."

"Uh, guys?" Frost said. "Still here."

Maura blushed. "Apologies, Detective Frost."

"Must be something about all those ankle-length skirts," Jane said, winking at him.

Carmen came back up the stairs with Anna in tow. "Barry, would you come with me?" she asked sweetly. "Maura, Jane, I'm afraid we're a bit short on space and if you don't mind I'll have to ask you to share a room with Carmen for the night."

"Lucky," Jane whispered to Frost as he headed toward his room.

"Yeah," he whispered back, eying Maura and Carmen. "_I'm_ the lucky one."

* * *

A/N: Yaaay, they're getting out of Pennsylvania! TO EXPLORE THE MYSTERIES! The plot is ever-thickening, Carmen knows how to shoot a gun, Maura hates the CIA. Also, for those of you who have asked (is the polite way I'll phrase that): the assumption is that Maura and Jane are already sleeping together. They couldn't last time because of broken ribs and gunshot wounds. I don't know that a sex scene is appropriate for a story like this, since it's more about the story than it is about the relationship, but I'll make it a little clearer. Don't give up; there will be smooching. I mean, if you do give up because I'm not going to up the rating for titillation's sake, I hope you find some freaky smut that makes you happy, I really really do 3


	4. Safe as Houses

The trip to Lancaster had been short, under an hour due to the rapidly-melting snow on the roads. They'd left early in the morning, skipping the simple breakfast offered to them by the Amish, afraid for a moment of offending their hosts until they saw the relieved look on Jakob Helmuth's face as he bid them a safe journey. Anna, his daughter, stood slightly behind him, looking vaguely disappointed.

"She won't get a rumspringa like her sisters did," Carmen whispered as they walked down the overgrown path back to the road. "Sometimes the young people really look forward to it, and sometimes they don't. I think Anna was excited until she found out about what happened on the outside."

"So . . . no going out and getting wasted, then," Jane replied.

"She probably wouldn't have gone far from home," Carmen said. "It's not like the movies. But still, I imagine it's a disappointment."

"You sure do know a lot about the Amish for only spending a week with them," Frost said.

"A week's a long time when all you can do is talk to people. Especially when most of them won't talk back."

"Tell me about it," Jane muttered as they found the car. She waved to Jakob, who nodded mutely and turned back toward the house.

"Everything still here?" she asked as she unlocked the doors. Maura found her rifle, Frost held up his pistol. "Good."

"Who would've stolen anything?" Carmen asked. "It's just us and the people who don't like zippers."

"It's someone else too," Frost said. "Someone who made it all the way to New York to leave us a message."

"I don't know anything about that," Carmen said. "I swear."

Jane buckled her seatbelt, glanced back at Carmen in the rearview mirror. "Someone does. Someone who knows who we are. And from what I can figure, there's only one person that might be."

Carmen looked at them blankly.

"Your husband was working with an agent responsible for a lot of terrible things," Jane went on. "An agent who was reporting on us."

"That's a big assumption, Jane," Maura said. "I admit it does seem likely, but I don't want to rush to conclusions."

"Maura," Jane said patiently, "This isn't like before, when there were lots of possibilities to choose from. This is what we've got. Anything that happens, _anything_, well, it's _something_, you know? Everything means something. And we don't have the luxury of waiting for more information."

Maura closed her eyes, shook her head, settled into her seat. "I just wish you wouldn't get so eager about leaping to conclusions."

"Maura—" Jane sighed, started the car.

"How long have those two been a thing?" Carmen whispered to Frost.

"Is it that obvious?"

Carmen eyed him skeptically. Frost grinned. "Officially, a few months. Unofficially, well, feels like forever."

"They're cute," she said. Frost rolled his eyes.

"Just wait 'til you get to know them better," he muttered.

"Hey Carmen," Jane said. Frost quickly looked out the window. "Where in Lancaster are we going?"

"Just outside," she said. "You won't have to go through town, which is good. When Ron picked me up it looked a little . . . uhh . . . hard to navigate."

"Why did he come get you, anyway?" Jane asked. "Why now?"

"He didn't tell me. Of course. I've been wondering the same thing myself. I wonder why he took me away from DC at all. I haven't seen much of the world—you know, _after_—and the place I was in had a surprisingly good security system for a family summer house."

"And you didn't think that was weird?"

Carmen sighed. "Of _course_ I thought it was weird. But I'm a spook's wife. You don't ask questions. And I had food and water and a generator, and I didn't know much but I knew if I left I'd be in danger. I was surviving, just like you."

Jane glanced at Maura, who was studiously looking out her window, rubbing unconsciously at her shoulder. Jane felt a faint twinge of guilt.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "I know the feeling."

* * *

"Turn here," Carmen said after they'd been driving a while, pointing at a small single-lane road. "It's right down this way."

They pulled up to a large frame house. Jane cut the engine several yards from the building, slipping her gun into its holster. Frost did the same; Maura slung her rifle across her back.

"Just in case," Frost said. Carmen nodded.

"I've got a pistol inside," she said. "I would've brought it, but Ron made me leave it behind."

"This guy is sounding more and more like a real winner," Jane muttered.

Carmen walked up onto the porch and entered a code into the keypad concealed beneath the doorbell.

"High-tech," Frost murmured, impressed despite his wariness.

"Perfect for maintaining that caged-animal feeling," Carmen replied, flicking at a dead light switch. "We'll need to start the generator if we want light."

"I don't want to stay long," Maura said. "These safehouses never make me feel particularly safe."

"Yeah," Jane agreed, "let's get some supplies and go. Where are those locked closets? And do you have a crowbar or something?"

"Uh, Jane," Frost said, "where are we going, exactly?"

Jane paused. "I don't know. West, I guess." She worried her fingers for a moment. "Okay, Frost, you and Carmen get what you can. Is there another rig around here? A truck or something?"

Carmen shrugged. "There's one in the shed, but I can't start it. Gas or battery or something."

"Well you're in luck," Jane said, "Detective Frost is quite gifted in the automotive arts."

"Really?" Carmen looked at him, eyebrow raised.

Frost shrugged dismissively. "I've boosted one or two. Strictly by-the-book, of course."

"Uh-huh," Carmen said. "Okay, hot rod, let's see what you've got."

"We'll stay here, look for clues. Try to figure out where to go next." Jane glanced at Maura, who was nervously fingering the barrel of her rifle.

As Frost and Carmen disappeared out the door, Maura turned to Jane.

"She's very pretty, don't you think?"

"Prettier than me?"

"Of course not," Maura smiled. "Do you think we can trust her?"

"I dunno," Jane said. "Do you?"

"You know I'm not very good at that," Maura replied. "Reading people."

"Could you at least read the way Frost was looking at her? I don't think you're the only one who noticed she's pretty."

Maura grinned. "Is_ that_ why you sent them off together?"

"Well, yeah, that and it's been a while since I got to kiss you," Jane said, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on Maura's lips.

Maura smiled. "You're very sweet," she whispered. "But shouldn't we be trying to figure out what we're doing next?"

"Ugh, I _guess,_" Jane groaned theatrically. "Who knows how long it'll take them to start the truck, might as well bust into the closets ourselves. If there's any evidence it'd probably be in there."

Maura nodded. She glanced around for something to open the locked doors and sighed. "I don't see anything, maybe there's a crowbar in the shed?"

Jane poked her head out from the living room. "Found one of 'em. It's padlocked. I'd have thought they would've sprung for something a little more high-tech, but I guess not. Wanna watch me kick it in so you can swoon at my display of brute strength?"

Maura laughed and followed Jane into the room. "I'll stand by the couch just in case I feel faint," she said. Jane grinned and took a flying leap at the door, crying out as she bounced off it and went tumbling to the floor.

"Are you all right?" Maura asked breathlessly, leaning down next to her.

"Yeah, fine. _Pretty_ sure that's a steel-lined door, though." She groaned and rubbed at her ankle.

"All right," Maura said. "My turn."

"But Maura, didn't you just hear me say-"

Maura ignored her, lifting her rifle and shattering the lock with a clean shot.

"Yeah, yeah," Jane grumbled. "I forgot for a second I'm hanging out with Annie Oakley."

"Don't be sad, Jane," Maura smiled as she helped Jane off the floor. "I'm sure the door would've crumbled in terror if it weren't for that pesky steel core."

They peered into the dim closet, which seemed much larger than the layout of the house would suggest.

"Cool," Jane whispered. "I always wanted a house with secret rooms."

"Especially rooms filled with machine guns, I'd imagine," Maura said as she poked at the rows of weapons with the barrel of her own rifle.

"I guess we were staying in one of the economy suites," Jane breathed as she examined the contents of the room. "Look at this stuff! Guns, ammunition, rations, water-hey Maura, check out these medical supplies!"

As Maura lifted an empty duffel bag from a hook near the door and began loading it with supplies, Jane found a large halogen flashlight on a shelf and started examining the room for clues as to where they should go next. After a few fruitless minutes, she sighed and switched the light off.

"Why don't you make yourself feel better by picking out a shiny new gun?" Maura said, peering closely at some small vials filled with a clear amber liquid.

"That would probably help,," Jane agreed, looking over the weapons. "What's that?"

"I don't know," Maura said, frowning slightly. "It's in a standard vial, but it's not labeled. There's quite a few of them, though."

"Maybe we should take some," Jane shrugged. "What the hell."

Maura squinted at the vial again before carefully tucking it in her bag. "Did you find one you like?"

Jane hefted a dull black M16 aloft. "Why mess with a good thing? There's a couple of sniper rifles here, you ready for a replacement?"

"Why mess with a good thing?" Maura touched the stock of her rifle. "I'm used to this one. I understand its peculiarities and I've adjusted to its subtle individual characteristics."

"Should I be jealous of your gun?" Jane grinned.

"I've adjusted to _your_ peculiarities too, Jane, and that took a lot longer," Maura said. "Frankly I'm a little offended you'd think me so inconstant in my affections."

"You _did_ say Carmen was pretty," Jane reminded her.

"But not prettier than you."

Jane smiled, kissed her. "I'm gonna take a few more guns, just in case."

"Don't forget to leave room for food and water."

"Ugh, fine," Jane said playfully. "If we must."

Maura shook her head patiently. "Hand me another bag, please, I want to get as much as I can. For us, and in case we run into people who need help."

Jane took another bag down, quietly marveling at Maura's unflagging compassion. "Find anything that might point us in the right direction?"

"I'm afraid not," Maura said. "Unless-" she paused, fished in her bag.

"Unless what? Maura, what are you thinking?"

"Patience, dear," Maura chided as she pulled one of the small vials of amber liquid out of her duffel. "Will you get your flashlight?"

Jane grabbed the light, aimed it at Maura.

"Not in my eyes, please," Maura said dryly. "Aim a little lower, I want to check something." She held the vial aloft, scrutinizing it carefully. "This isn't a mass-market drug like the others; there's no label," she said, "which means it may have a custom maker's mark on it. Yes," she breathed, "there. Do you see it?" She held the vial out to Jane.

"No," Jane said, squinting at the bottle. "What am I looking for?"

"The etching is very fine, but it's there, on the seal. I think it says 'Bliss Labs.' But there's no location, darn."

"Bliss Labs. Freaky. But it's something," Jane said, squeezing Maura's arm. "You'll make Detective yet."

There was a stuttering mechanical roar from outside. "The truck!" Jane crowed, nearly dropping the vial. "I _knew_ Frost could do it!"

Jane and Maura ran outside, carrying their heavy loads. Frost sat in the drivers' seat of an ancient F250, grinning. Carmen sat on the passenger side, smiling softly at Frost.

"Even _I_ can read that," Maura murmured to Jane. "Gosh, I hope she's not trying to get us killed. Especially for Detective Frost's sake."

"Everyone deserves someone," Jane murmured back, squeezing Maura's hand briefly before waving at Frost. "Hey, man, good job! You find any gas to go with it?"

"A few five-gallon drums; should be enough to get us a few miles. You find where we're headed?"

"Got a new lead, thanks to Dr. Smartypants here," Jane said. "Bliss Labs, ring any bells?"

Frost shook his head. "Sound familiar?" he asked Carmen. She frowned.

"Maybe? Ron might have mentioned it, but I'm not sure."

"Think on it," Jane said, heaving a duffel full of ammunition into the bed of the truck. "But while you do, let's pull together the rest of the gear and get moving."

"Good idea," Frost said, hopping out of the truck. "You want to take one ride or two?"

"It's easier to take more with two, plus that cab seems a little cozy for four."

"I worry about getting separated," Maura frowned. "What if there's an accident, or an ambush? That's not entirely unheard of, given what we've already been through."

"If there's an accident it's better to have a spare vehicle," Carmen said. "And if they want to separate us, I imagine they'll do it one way or another."

Frost beamed at her. Jane turned to Maura, stuck her finger down her throat. Maura swatted at her shoulder. "Be nice," she whispered.

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm nice before you believe me?"

Maura smiled. "All right," she said. "We'll take both vehicles. But we need to maintain visual contact at all times."

"Yes, Dad," Jane muttered. Maura swatted at her again. "Come on, let's load up."

They went into the house, Jane and Frost collecting supplies from the closet Maura had blown open, Maura and Carmen heading upstairs to the second, smaller door.

"Dr. Isles?" Carmen said hesitantly. Maura glanced at her as she took aim at the lock. "Barry told me what you do," she explained, slightly embarrassed. "I'm-I'm really sorry about what happened to you. Barry-Detective Frost-he told me about the hospital and you getting taken hostage and shot, and I'm . . . I'm really sorry." She looked away as Maura shattered the lock. "I meant what I said before. If Ron had anything to do with this, I swear I'll kill him myself."

Maura set her rifle down carefully. "Have you ever killed anyone?" she asked. Carmen shook her head. "My advice?" she said, pushing the door open. "Don't."

They found a smaller room, containing mostly food, water, and blankets.

"We won't need many blankets, since the weather is turning. As much water and food as you can carry, though." Carmen nodded silently, unwilling to make eye contact with Maura. "Thank you," Maura said softly, after a pause. "For saying that." She smiled kindly at Carmen. "Please don't make me regret liking you," she added, the slightest trace of injury in her voice. "It's happened before."

"I won't," Carmen said fervently. "I swear, Dr. Isles."

"Please," she smiled again. "Call me Maura."

They stood in silence for a moment before jumping as Jane thundered up the stairs. "We've got company," she said tersely. "Time to go."

"What-" Maura started.

"Planes. Frost heard 'em. Still too far to see, but as soon as we can see them, they can see us." She grabbed the bag Maura was holding, and they both started back down the stairs before noticing Carmen standing, frozen, at the closet door.

"Carmen, let's go!" Jane shouted. "We've got to go _now_!"

"The door code," Carmen whispered. "They must have been monitoring the door."

"Yeah probably," Jane said, running back up and grabbing her arm. "And they're on their way, let's _go!_"

They stumbled down the stairs and out the door, meeting Frost at the truck, engine already running. "Get in the back!" he shouted. "I'll drop you at the other car!" Maura and Jane leaped into the bed of the truck, hauling their bags after them.

"Carmen!" Jane yelled over the roar of the engine. "We need to hide until they're gone!"

"There's, uh, there's a track into the woods about half a mile down the main road," she said. "I don't know where it goes, though."

"If it goes into the woods that's good enough for me. Go, Frost! Go now!"

He pressed on the gas, nearly knocking Jane and Maura out of the truck. After a few white-knuckled seconds he squealed to a halt at the Oldsmobile, pausing just long enough to let Jane and Maura jump out of the back before accelerating down the road, peeling to the left.

Jane and Maura leaped into the sedan and made it onto the main road, turning down the overgrown track Carmen had described just in time to hear the deafening roar as the safehouse exploded behind them.

"Don't watch, Maura," Jane said, a cold anguish twisting in her gut as she remembered the last time she's said those words. A quick glance at Maura showed it hadn't escaped her notice, either. "I love you," Jane whispered, not knowing what else to say.

Maura was silent. Jane watched her, saw the faint glimmering fire reflected in her enormous hazel eyes.

"I love you," she whispered again.

* * *

A/N: People are shooting guns again! Things are exploding! Bad Dudes are aware! This part of the story (being Part II) is going to be much more like _The Road_, since it's the middle part of a trilogy (don't tell) and the middle part is always the part where people go a-journeyin', meeting horrible people and seeing horrible things. Wheee!


	5. All Quiet

"Maura?" Jane whispered once the sound of the planes had retreated. "Maura, sweetheart, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Maura said, though her voice was flat and expressionless.

"Honey, you're not fine, please tell me what I can do."

"You can get us out of here," Maura said, looking Jane in the eye. "Please."

Jane bit her lip. Maura was staring at her with a desperation so deep it moved beyond simple yearning. Jane had to look away.

"I'll go talk to Frost," she mumbled. Maura nodded.

Jane eased out of the Oldsmobile and crept up to the driver's side window of the old Ford truck. "Frost," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"We gotta get out of here."

Frost glanced at Carmen, her face frozen in shock and fear. "Yeah," he muttered. "I hear you."

"Where should we go? Carmen?" Jane asked softly. "Where should we go? You said Lancaster proper was pretty bad, do you know any back roads around here?"

Carmen shook her head, still unable to speak.

"Okay," Jane said, in the same soft voice. "Just take a minute and breathe, okay?"

Carmen nodded.

"How's Dr. Isles?" Frost asked quietly.

"Not great," Jane muttered. "Second time and all."

"At least there was nobody in there this time."

"I guess," Jane shrugged. "Carmen?"

"Is Maura all right?"

"She's fine," Jane smiled. "Are _you_ all right?"

Carmen nodded swiftly. "I'm fine. Um, I don't really know for sure, but there must be a way around the city. I think the road we're on heads to the southwest, but I might be wrong."

"Only one way to find out," Jane said. "Frost, you follow behind, okay? Carmen, do you have a weapon? Can you shoot out of a moving vehicle?"

Carmen frowned. "Maybe?"

"I gave her a Glock," Frost said. "Should be easy to handle."

"I'm used to rifles," Carmen said, sounding almost embarrassed. "I don't know how I'd do with a handgun."

"Okay, hold on," Jane grinned, and went around to the bed of the truck, pulling out one of the sniper rifles she'd pulled from the safehouse. "Try this. It's the one Maura uses. Must be lucky for doctors."

"I didn't even finish nursing school," Carmen protested, though Jane could see she was smiling shyly as she accepted the gun.

"Close enough," Jane said. "Okay, we're gonna double back a little bit, head northeast and try to loop around. The planes were coming from due west, as close as I can figure, and so that's probably the way they left."

Frost nodded.

"You all right on gas?"

"Filled 'er up at the house."

"Good. I'm gonna grab one of your cans, then. We'll stop to fill them up as soon as we find some cars that aren't totaled."

"We've been siphoning," Frost explained to Carmen. She looked repulsed for a moment, then shrugged.

"You got mints?"

Jane grinned. "I like her. Don't try to kill us, okay?"

"Jeez," Carmen said, grinning back. "I _won't_. But if any of you tell me not to again, I might start to reconsider."

Jane clapped a hand on the driver's side door. "Okay," she said. "Let's get the fuck out of here before they come back."

Once she was back in the Cutlass, she took Maura's hand, kissed it briefly. "We're getting out of here," she murmured. "Okay? We're going somewhere safe."

"And where's that?" Maura asked bitterly.

Jane's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't heard such venomous defeat in Maura's voice in months, she'd forgotten the way it cut at her. "I'm sorry, Maura," she whispered.

"It's not your fault, Jane," Maura said, sighing. "I just don't know how much more of this I can take. Never knowing if we're going to starve or freeze or get shot or blown up or eaten by the undead."

"Well," Jane said, smiling faintly, "we're probably not going to freeze. And it's been months since we've seen crawlers, so we can probably cross that off the list too."

"I mean it, Jane," Maura said, her voice still deadly serious. "I don't know how much longer I can do this."

"It's just a little bit farther, Maura," Jane said, an edge of desperation in her voice. "We've got a lead, we've got your vials. We've got Carmen, and right now I'm starting to trust her, at least a little bit, even though it scares me. We have to trust _someone_, Maura. We have to trust each other, we have to keep going. I can't do this if you aren't with me, remember?"

"I'm sure Detective Frost is wondering why you haven't started the engine yet," Maura said, laying her head against the shoulder strap of her seatbelt.

Jane frowned, glanced at her once more, then started the Cutlass. She backed carefully out of the overgrown track, then headed north on the road they'd come down not even an hour earlier, back toward the place they'd left.

* * *

"Jane," Maura said suddenly, after they'd been driving for several hours. They'd looped around Lancaster, traveled south until they'd met the Susquehanna River and had nearly given up hope until another hour spent traversing the banks had led them to a small, rickety bridge spanning the narrowest point for miles. They'd held their collective breaths as the vehicles eased across the bridge, gasping as the struts squealed, sighing with relief once they made it across.

"Yeah?" Jane glanced at her. She was sitting straight upright, her eyes slightly narrowed in the way that Jane recognized meant she had an idea. "You've got that _I'm-about-to-solve-the-mystery_ look on your face."

"I don't know if it'll solve the _whole_ mystery," Maura said, frowning slightly, still deep in thought. "But those vials—Bliss Labs—"

"Yeah?"

"Donna said Project Erebus was designed to eliminate remaining populations after a nuclear attack on American soil, right?"

"Uh-huh."

Maura fell silent again, biting at her fingernail.

"Maura?"

"Hmm?"

"Was there . . . any more you wanted to say, or are you good with that?"

"I'm thinking, Jane."

"You usually don't start thinking out loud until you've got a brilliant idea," Jane said.

"Well, the brilliance of the idea usually isn't quite this vitally important," Maura replied.

Jane shrugged. Maura had a point.

"Bliss . . ." she murmured. She reached into the back seat and unzipped one of her duffel bags, fishing out the small vial of amber liquid. She scrutinized it carefully, as though willing it to reveal more information.

"Maybe you could ask it who its mommy is," Jane suggested.

"Not helpful," Maura said, casting a sidelong glance her way.

"Sorry," Jane muttered. They fell silent again.

"Texas!" Maura cried after a long pause, causing Jane to nearly swerve off the road. "Jane, we have to get to Texas."

"Ugh, really?"

"Don't you want to know _why_?"

"As a matter of fact," Jane said, "I do."

"Bliss Labs, I don't know—I don't know, Jane, but I _suspect_, is a subsidiary of Fort Bliss—"

"Fort Bliss, that's a military base, right?"

"If you'll just let me finish even _one_ sentence," Maura sighed. "Yes, Fort Bliss is a military base, and it borders—"

"White Sands Missile Range! Maura, you're a _genius!"_

"It was a proving grounds from 1945 up until the beginning of the Cold War. It includes the Trinity test site, where they deployed the first nuclear weapon."

"I'm so glad you went to school _before_ Google got blown up," Jane said, hitting her palm against the steering wheel in excitement. "You're amazing."

Maura blushed. "It's all retention," she said. "I could show you some techniques."

"I'm gonna show _you _some techniques later," Jane grinned. "One must reward genius."

Maura smiled widely, casting her eyes down. "Jane," she murmured.

"You know, I love it when you say my name like that," Jane said softly.

"Like what?"

"All . . . I dunno, all sweet." She shrugged, slightly embarrassed despite the months of caresses.

Maura blushed more deeply. "I like saying your name . . . all sweet," she said.

Jane grinned at her.

"Eyes on the road, babe," Maura warned. "We're not crashing another car, no matter how sweet you think I am."

"Yes ma'am," Jane said. "So, Texas, huh?"

"Right on the southern border with New Mexico."

"How long do you think it'll take to get there?"

"I have no idea. If we can manage to drive straight there, only stopping when absolutely necessary—meaning you'll have to let me drive sometimes—" Jane grimaced; Maura ignored her, "—we should be able to get there in a few days. That's a big_ if_, though, and judging from what we've seen so far—" she indicated the world out the window, still entirely unpopulated and, for the most part, completely destroyed—"I'd say it'll probably take us much longer. Going through the plains and the desert will be the most difficult part. There wasn't much out there to begin with, and now . . ."

"Now there's even less," Jane muttered. "Probably what, three, four hundred miles of open road once we hit the Wild West?"

"If we take the long way around and stay closer to populated—_possibly_ populated areas," Maura said. "I'm not exactly an expert on the highway systems outside of the greater New England area, and not exactly on those either."

"You got us this far," Jane said, taking Maura's hand without looking away from the road.

"We _all_ got us this far," Maura demurred.

"You're gonna have to start taking a little credit, Doctor," Jane smiled. "Otherwise _I'll_ take it all."

"That would hardly be fair to Detective Frost," Maura said.

"Aww, what's he done? Shot a few zombies, saved our asses a couple times. No big deal." She winked at Maura, who giggled. "And now he's got a girlfriend anyway, so I wouldn't rely on him as much."

"_You've_ got a girlfriend," Maura said, raising an eyebrow, "yet you somehow continue to function."

It was Jane's turn to blush. "Yeah," she mumbled.

"Are you embarrassed? Jane, are you embarrassed by me?"

"Come on, Maura—" Jane started, before seeing the mirthful grin on Maura's face. "Yeah, pretty much. You're like, totally hideous and super-dumb."

"And _you're_ loud, sarcastic, and prone to outbursts of violence."

"Well I—hey, that's all true," Jane frowned.

"And I love you anyway," Maura said sweetly.

"Shucks," Jane blushed.

"Should we let Detective Frost know what the plan is?"

Jane glanced in the rearview mirror, saw Frost and Carmen deep in conversation. "Nah, we'll give 'em a few more miles. Shouldn't we be coming up on a town or something? You'd think, anyway, we've been driving for hours."

Maura peered out the window. "There's a road sign ahead, slow down a little bit."

Jane obliged, and Maura looked intently at the sign. "Parkersburg, West Virginia, six miles," she read.

"I hope you brought your banjo."

Maura looked at her blankly.

"It's from a movie . . . about . . . never mind," Jane sighed. "It's starting to get dark anyway, we should probably find a place to spend the night, talk things over, fuel up." She flicked on her turn signal, indicating to Frost to pull over.

"I thought you were going to give them a few miles," Maura teased.

"Well, if we're driving our asses all the way down to Texas I imagine they'll have plenty of time to get to know each other. Plus, I'm hungry and they've got all the food."

She cut the engine on the soft shoulder. The snow was nearly gone, except in the hollows and the places so overgrown the sunlight couldn't reach. The air was still crisp, with a breath of winter, but as Jane inhaled deeply she could detect the soft sweetness of spring. She looked around her, marveling at the uneven terrain. She'd spent most of her life in Boston and the surrounding area, and save for a few trips out of town to visit relatives, and once to Florida on a disastrous family vacation to Disney World she'd never experienced a landscape like the one she found herself in.

The Ohio River Valley wasn't wildly divergent from the woods of Western Massachusetts, but it felt alien to her nonetheless. "We're not in Kansas any more," she whispered.

"I know that one!" Maura chirped. "_The Wizard of Oz_, right? But shouldn't you say 'we're not in Kansas _yet_'? To be accurate, I mean."

"I was about to congratulate you on being human but now I'm not so sure," Jane said as Frost pulled up behind the Oldsmobile.

"What's up?" he asked, hopping out of the cab.

"Maura figured it out!" Jane cried excitedly.

"I didn't _figure it out_, I just have a _theory_."

"Dr. Isles's theories are usually a pretty sure thing," Frost said to Carmen, who had joined them on the roadside.

"Please don't," Maura said. "I don't want to be held responsible for us driving fifteen hundred miles—"

"Whoa," Frost cut in. "How many did you say?"

"Saddle up, son, we're headed for Texas!" Jane clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't tell me you haven't always wanted to rope some steers."

"Uh—"

"Where in Texas," Carmen said, her voice low.

"Fort Bliss," Jane said. "Maura found some vials of . . . some stuff . . . at the safehouse, and it has a mark on it that she thinks might mean it came from—I dunno, Maura, you explain it."

"Don't bother," Carmen said. "She's right."

They looked at her, confused.

"I was thinking about what you said, about Bliss Labs, and I remembered Ron telling me once he had to go out to El Paso for work. Since we didn't trust each other any farther than we could throw each other, I always looked up the places he said he was going-"

"This is why we're not getting married," Jane muttered. Maura gave her a skeptical glance. "Plus," she stammered, "how could we have an open bar at the reception? You see a liquor store anywhere in the past five months?"

Maura sighed and shook her head.

"And the only thing I could find that might be of interest to a State Department employee, outside of the forty or so strip clubs, was Fort Bliss. And before you ask, no, I have no idea what he was doing there, but it's so close to the missile range, and if you're right about him and this female agent, well . . . it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"When was he there?" Jane asked.

"About . . . I guess about a year ago. He was gone for six weeks, but I don't know how much of that time he spent in Texas."

"Has your husband ever been to China that you know of?"

"Look, Jane," Carmen sighed, squeezed the bridge of her nose. "My husband might be the _Emperor _of China for all I know. He'd tell me things, like he had to go for training in Kuwait, and I'd believe he was in Kuwait, maybe, but who knows what he was doing there. And then I'd stop believing he was anywhere or anything he said he was, and eventually I just . . . stopped caring."

"Why didn't you get divorced?" Maura asked.

Carmen shrugged. "Well, I think I already told you, Ron's not the sort of guy you say no to. And . . . I was used to it. He made good money. He was hardly ever around. We all get through our lives however we can," she said. "I'm not ashamed of it."

"You shouldn't be," Jane said, putting her hand on Carmen's arm. "This is all really helpful, thank you."

"I'm sorry I can't tell you more. But for what it's worth, I think Dr. Isles—Maura—is right."

"See?" Jane turned to Maura. "I _told_ you you're a genius."

"Dr. Isles is a genius," Frost said to Carmen. She smiled.

"I'm beginning to notice," she said.

"Oh please stop," Maura stammered, blushing deeply. "We need to find a place to spend the night.

"We're six miles out of Parkersburg," Jane said, "but I don't really want to go into an urban area if it's not broad fucking daylight, you know?"

"Yeah," Frost agreed. "Especially not around these parts."

"Afraid of a little hillbilly affection?"

"I saw that movie," Frost shuddered. "I don't care if it was scripted, I'm not getting friendly with any locals."

"Okay," Jane said, rubbing her hands together briskly. "Let's find a nice place to pull a B&E for the night, troops."

They got back into their respective vehicles and cruised slowly down the empty two-lane highway.

"There!" Maura said, pointing at a small house just off the road.

"Looks good to me," Jane said, pulling into the drive. Frost and Carmen followed carefully behind. "Same as usual, me and Frost will check it out, you cover us, okay?"

Maura nodded. Frost and Jane met next to Jane's driver's side door, exchanged a few words, then nodded at Maura and took off around the house. Maura steadied her rifle on the edge of the car window, carefully scanning the perimeter.

"Clear!" Jane called. Maura sighed with relief.

Jane ran back to the car, grabbed her pack from the backseat. "C'mon, genius," she winked. "Two bedrooms, I checked."

* * *

A/N Awww, girlfriends. Welp, you know what happens when sweet things happen during the apocalypse. You know how much I love to toy with your emotions. Things that have not changed: that.


	6. Sons of Hinnom

Maura blinked sleepily, still half-dreaming. It wasn't a dream of fire and blood, it was soft and blank and endless, she was dreaming of the sea. She smiled, pushed closer to Jane's still-unconscious body, let the rhythm of Jane's breath become the rhythm of the waves lapping languidly at her toes. In her dream seagulls chattered with human voices, whispering words she couldn't quite make out.

"Wake up," one of them said.

"Not yet," Maura mumbled.

"Wake up," the seagull said. It reached into its feathers and pulled out a long black stick. "Wake up, pretty lady."

Maura's eyes flew open. "Jane," she whispered, terrified.

"What? I was-"

Two men stood at the foot of the bed. One of them was aiming an ancient rifle straight at Jane's head.

"What you doin', sleepin' in Royal Cutler's bed?" the one with the rifle asked, his lip curled back in a vicious sneer.

"We-we didn't know anyone lived here," Maura stammered. The man with the gun twitched the barrel in Maura's direction. She gasped as Jane grabbed protectively at her arm.

"He don't live anywhere no more," the one with the gun said. "But this is still his house, ain't it?"

The other man nodded curtly.

"Real pretty ladies, though," the one with the gun said. "Whaddya figure, Junior?"

The other man, Junior, regarded them for a moment. "Tie 'em up," he said. "We'll take 'em to Granddad."

Maura clutched at Jane's hand, afraid to move, to speak, to breathe. She saw Jane glance at her weapon, just out of reach. Junior saw it too.

"It'd sure be a shame to have to kill ya before we know anything about ya," he said, his voice betraying his words. "Y'all just play nice and me and Rocket, we'll play nice too, won't we, Rocket?"

"Real nice," Rocket grinned, revealing a mouthful of broken teeth. Maura shuddered. Rocket stared at her with barely-restrained desire, animal and dangerous. She glanced at her own rifle, leaning against the wrong side of the bedside table. "Don't you get any ideas neither, sweet little thing," he said, licking his lips.

"Jane," she whispered. Jane squeezed her hand hard, didn't speak.

"All right," Junior said, reaching for a coil of rope at his feet. "Let's get 'em bound up good." He moved toward Jane; Maura could see the muscles in her jaw tense, could tell she wanted to strike, but glanced at the weapon still pointed at Maura and allowed Junior to wrench her hands behind her back, securing them with the rope. She looked at Maura, eyes burning with fear and rage and desperation.

"Who are you?" Jane demanded as severely as she could. "Where are you taking us?"

"I reckon we oughta be askin' you the same thing," Junior said as he yanked roughly on the rope binding Jane's hands. "But we're gonna go see Granddad, he likes to be the one askin' questions."

"But-"

"Aw, shut her up," Rocket groaned. "Couldn't stand Carla's lip, can't stand this one neither."

Junior shrugged, and then before either of them could react, darted forward and struck Jane hard across the mouth.

"Jane!" Maura cried, struggling to reach her.

"Nuh-uh," Rocket said, stopping Maura with the barrel of the rifle. Tears sprang to her eyes as Jane blinked hazily, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth.

She felt like she was in a new, unspeakable dream as Rocket trained his rifle on her while Junior grabbed her, wrenching her arms behind her back.

"Maybe Granddad'll let us have 'em," he hissed, sour breath making the hair on the back of Maura's neck prickle. "Since we're the ones found 'em."

"Yeah maybe," Rocket grinned, his broken leer making bile rise in Maura's throat.

"C'mon," Junior said, jerking at the rope around Maura's wrists, pointing her toward the door. "He's waiting."

* * *

Maura and Jane were shoved roughly into the bed of a small pickup truck. Junior and Rocket climbed into the cab, muttering to each other, turning back to gape at them through the window.

"Jane," Maura whispered. "Jane, are you all right?"

"Fine," Jane said through gritted teeth. The blood had stained her lips crimson, a small trickle running from the corner of her mouth.

"Are you sure?"

"You know, babe, not really," Jane said harshly. Maura felt hot tears slide down her cheeks, cursed herself. "I'm sorry," Jane said quickly. "I didn't mean it that way."

"Yes you did," Maura said. "And you're right. Where do you think they're taking us?"

"No idea," Jane said, glancing at the men in the truck. "I don't really want to find out, either."

"What about Frost? And Carmen?"

Jane shook her head. "They must've heard them come in."

"But they didn't—"

"They stayed quiet. They did what they needed to do. That's what we'd have done if we'd heard them first. Maybe they'll be able to do something to help."

Maura frowned, looked down at the bed of the truck, the paint worn down to dull steel. She noticed a thin layer of ash in the corrugation, small pieces of charred wood scattered near the tailgate. She paused, sniffed the air.

"Do you smell that?"

Jane took a breath. "Fire."

"Yes, and look, there's ash and char back here."

"Maybe they're burning brush," Jane said unconvincingly.

"Maybe." Maura watched the landscape jostle past; the road they were on was a deeply rutted single-lane dirt track. They turned left and headed up a steep hillside. Maura saw other houses, smaller and rougher than the one they'd broken into. Rusted car parts littered overgrown yards. Each house had a small pyre in the front, though none appeared to have been lit. Enormous rough-hewn crosses surmounted each roof.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Jane whispered.

"Just now?" Maura whispered back.

The smell of fire grew stronger. Ash began to flutter through the air, landing in Maura's hair. She flashed back to the hospital, to the pyre they'd constructed in the south courtyard, where they'd burned the bodies of those she had been unable to save.

"Jane," she whispered, dread coiling in her belly.

"Yeah?"

"Did you see the pyres in front of all the houses?"

"You mean those stacks of wood?"

"They're not stacks of wood, they're meant—oh God, Jane, I think they're meant to burn bodies."

Jane looked at her, her face unreadable, her eyes large and frightened. "Maura," she said, as the truck lurched to a halt in front of a tidy white house, larger and better-kept than the others.

"Come on out, ladies," Junior sneered. "Time to meet Granddad."

"Who's—" Jane started.

"Don't make me strike you again, now," Junior warned "I don't wanna mess up that mouth of yours too bad." He pushed Jane toward the front porch of the house. Rocket shoved Maura's shoulder, directing her to follow.

Jane made a face of utter disgust and Rocket jabbed at her with the rifle. "You can have this one," he jeered, "I get the one that don't talk."

"I _do _talk," Maura said suddenly, filled with a boldness she could only assume was borne of a fear so great it no longer even mattered.

"Oh hey," Junior said, "she _do_ talk. What you got to say, sweet thing?"

"Don't you hurt her," Maura said furiously. "Don't you dare _touch _her."

"Oh," Junior replied archly, "I'm gonna do more'n _touch_ her."

"Neither of you will do any such thing," a new voice, deep and resonant, boomed from the shadowed porch. "You will take your hands off these daughters of Eve and you will repent your lustful thoughts."

Both Rocket and Junior stepped back immediately, looking to the ground, deeply shamed. Maura and Jane peered up at the porch, a dim figure moving out into the morning light.

"Sorry Granddad," Junior muttered. He punched Rocket on the arm.

"Sorry Granddad," Rocket said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"Thank you for bringing these newcomers to my attention. You may return to your work."

They grumbled for a moment, glancing at Maura and Jane, before shuffling off the way they'd come, hopping into the truck and roaring back down the road, dirt and smoke flying from the wheels.

He was a tall, thin man, wearing a white suit fraying slightly at the cuffs and collar. He walked carefully down the porch steps, moving so smoothly he almost seemed to be floating. Maura couldn't help but stare at him; there was something compelling about his presence, something that made her look. She glimpsed several figures sitting on the porch out of the corner of her eye, but found herself unable to look away from the tall man.

"They call me Granddad," he said, though he appeared to be no more than fifty, his dark hair streaked with silver. "Though I imagine they mean it as an honorific, as many of the folks being saved here are considerably older in Earthly years than I."

Maura swallowed hard. She'd read about charismatics, about extreme evangelicalism, and though she'd never personally encountered it she suspected this man's powerful attraction meant he was the leader of whatever place they'd found themselves in.

"I apologize for the treatment," he smiled, "but the boys do tend to get a little rough. Especially with all the tribulations the Devil has cast in our path. We do our best to be Godly folk, though even I can understand how temptation may strike at the hearts of men. I do hope you weren't . . . violated."

Jane spat a mouthful of blood on the ground. "What makes you think that?" she growled.

He laughed, a rich, heavy sound that made Maura deeply uncomfortable. She could recognize the calculated charm in the laugh, the way the man expertly modulated the sound. She had not been raised with religion but she recognized false prophets, and the idea of a charismatic leader in the world after the apocalypse—in a tiny, isolated community that so far seemed to be populated by men who lacked women—made her more anxious than any hundred crawlers ever had.

"You," he said to Maura, looking her straight in the eye. She could _feel_ his focus, like something alien invading her, and she tried to resist but she realized she was so tired already, and the smell of smoke and the taste of ashes in her mouth were making her feel faint, were bringing back terrible memories of death and violence. "Daughter. What is your name?"

"Maura," she whispered, even though she could see Jane looking furiously at her.

"Maura," he said. "Daughter of darkness. Daughter of greatness."

She furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry?"

"Your name," he said softly. He stepped close to her, put his fingertips on her chin. She could feel the charisma radiating off him.

"Maura," he whispered. She closed her eyes.

"Maura!" Jane cried, struggling against her ropes.

"And you," Granddad hissed, turning to Jane. "What is your name, Daughter?"

"I'm not your daughter," Jane spat. "What do you want with us?"

He laughed again. "The Lord has given you great strength of will," he said.

"The Lord hasn't given me shit," Jane replied.

Granddad eyed her carefully. "Adele," he called. A thin gray ghost of a woman, indeterminate in age, crept out of the porch shadows. "Take her to the prayer house. She has a force inside her, one that may prove to be less than Heaven-sent. Purify her, and return her to me."

Adele nodded, and reached for Jane. Jane twisted away. "I don't need to be purified," she said angrily. "The only force I've got inside me is the one that's gonna hurt you if you don't start answering some questions."

Granddad only laughed softly. Adele gripped Jane's wrists. Maura could see by the look of surprise on Jane's face that the woman must be much stronger than she appeared.

"Jane!" she shouted as the woman dragged her away. "Jane!"

"Maura!" Jane cried roughly. "Maura, don't let them—"

And she was gone.

"Jane," Maura whispered, a fresh terror filling her as she looked at Granddad, who seemed to loom larger before her than he had a moment ago.

"Now," he said quietly, standing very close to her, his presence overpowering. "Are you a child of God, or a child of the Devil?"

"I'm—" she murmured, unsure of what to say. "What is this place?"

"A sanctuary," he said, breaking into a sudden grin, spreading his arms wide. "The Devil plagued mankind, but by the grace of God we have been spared. The Lord has appointed me His caretaker on this earth, and by His will I have protected my people."

"I'm sorry," she stammered, "I don't understand."

"You have seen the plague I speak of," he said. "You have seen the punishment sent down from God to scourge the wickedness from His people."

"It wasn't God," she said, regretting it immediately. She decided to push on regardless, certain that no matter what she said, she couldn't be in any more danger than she already was. "It was men who did this. It was the government."

"The government," Granddad spat. "A pack of Judases, sent by Satan to lure man away from the glory of God."

"No," Maura said desperately. "It was ordinary men. Ordinary men who did something terrible."

"Let me show you something," Granddad said, moving around behind her. Maura closed her eyes, unable to breathe as he touched her arms lightly, terror coursing through her as she felt the cold pressure of a knife against her skin. "Do not be afraid, Daughter," he said, cutting the ropes that bound her. "You have grace inside you. The Lord will protect you."

Maura stood mutely, rubbing her wrists. Granddad took her hands, led her around behind the house, the smoke getting thicker, the ash falling on her cheeks like snow. She caught the scent of something else, something dark and sickening.

_Flesh_.

She blinked ash out of her eyes, holding her hand up to try to keep the smoke from clouding her vision. On the long plain behind the house, overlooking the deep hollows and thick green foliage beginning to emerge with the spring sun, stood an enormous wooden pyre, identical in construction to those they'd seen in the yards of the smaller houses on the way up the mountain but perhaps ten times the size, reinforced with pieces of scrap metal and concrete. A fire blazed in the center, and Maura was just able to make out twisted, blackened lumps whose shapes had once resembled—

"No," she whispered.

"The Devil has walked among us," Granddad said, his sonorous voice resonating through the valleys. "We must destroy Him before His evil infects the righteous."

"It was a chemical weapon," Maura whispered. "It was created in a laboratory by scientists."

"But whose hand was guiding them?"

Maura looked around the clearing. Hidden slightly behind the massive pyre she glimpsed something that made her gut twist.

"Are those . . . bodies?" she whispered.

"They are the puppets of Satan," Granddad said solemnly. "The cast-off skins He used to walk among the saved."

She looked closer, despite everything within her urging her to look away.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "They're moving. They're _moving._ Those people, they're—they're still alive!"

"They are infected with the Devil's influence," Granddad said.

"Were they turned?" He looked at her blankly. "Were they . . . are they crawlers?"

"They are tainted with the association," he said simply.

"You mean—you mean you're killing innocent people?"

"They are not innocent!" he roared, suddenly furious. He stared at her, eyes blazing with rage. "They are painted with the Devil's brush! He came into their homes and insinuated Himself into their families, into _our _family, _my _family, He was as a wolf amongst sheep, and these lambs must be sacrificed unto the Lord that His grace may smile upon us, and purify us for the coming Glory."

"You're insane," Maura whispered, backing away. "You're murdering innocent people."

Granddad turned away. Maura could see his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he regained his composure. When he turned back to her he wore the same potent smile he had moments before.

"Daughter of darkness. Daughter of strength." He reached for her.

"Don't touch me," Maura cried, stumbling backward. "Don't _touch_ me!"

He moved for her with a speed Maura couldn't match, grabbed her bicep roughly. "I had hoped you would join our flock," he said, his voice colored with a sadness Maura could tell was masking a barely-restrained fury. "I had hoped the Lord had sent you to fortify and serve us. I see now you and your . . . your _friend_ are simply another of the Devil's tricks. I beg the Lord's forgiveness and mercy for being so blind," he muttered fervently, turning his eyes to the sky as his fingers dug painfully into Maura's arm. "I beg the Lord forgive me and spare our righteous family the tribulations of the unholy."

"Let me go," Maura whimpered, tugging fruitlessly against Granddad's iron grip.

He snapped his focus back on her. "I cannot unleash another demon into this world," he said, his eyes glazed with fervor. "I cannot permit the Devil to walk upon the Earth."

"I'm not the Devil!" Maura cried. "I'm trying to stop this! I'm trying to find out what happened!"

"It was the Lord's punishment!" Granddad screamed. "It was His righteous anger!" He threw Maura to the ground. "We are sinners, and must atone for our sins! We must sacrifice unto the Lord that He may know of our penitence!"

"No," Maura whispered as Granddad loomed over her. "No—"

She didn't notice the men who had been gathering at the edge of the clearing, ropes twisted around their forearms, until they were upon her, binding her tightly.

"Jane!" Maura screamed as they carried her off the field. "Jane!"

"Amen," Granddad sighed, raising his hand to the sky.

* * *

A/N: I had intended to make this one chapter, but now it's gonna be two. You guys! Everything is insane. The next one will be more disturbing (I know, right), so please be warned. I'll try to have it up shortly, since I'm going camping for several days, and I want to get this part of the story out in its intense cliffhanger entirety, just to be a jerk.

PS: I have known many, many people who grew up in Evangelical/Charismatic/Pentecostal communities. Of course, the ones I know now are mostly gay, mostly totally divorced from that lifestyle. But it is freaky, some of that stuff. Please don't think I'm tarring all Christians with this brush-believe it or not, I respect pretty much any faith, except when they take it too far (and I consider the intense damage inflicted on my friends trying to grow up gay and fundamentalist to be 'too far,' but all this is a much longer, much more boring essay for a time when we're all a lot more bored than we are right now).


	7. Exodus

"Where are you taking me?" Jane shouted as the thin gray woman—Adele—wrenched her arms with a strength Jane never would have believed. Adele didn't speak, only directed her across the muddy, uneven ground to a small plank-sided shack topped with an enormous cross. "What is this? Who are you people?"

Adele knocked gently on the door. As it swung open Jane caught the scent of woodsmoke, and, sickeningly, the faint odor of blood.

"Granddad sent her to be purified," Adele said in a voice as thin and insubstantial as the rest of her appeared to be, though the way she was silently ushered into the dim space led her to suspect the ghostliness of Adele's voice masked a strength of its own.

She blinked several times, trying to adjust as quickly as possible to the faint light inside the room. She realized there were no windows. Her stomach sank.

_Maura_, she thought. _What's that creep doing to her?_ She thought briefly of the way he'd touched Maura's chin, the way Maura's eyes had slid closed as though she were under a spell. _That guy's more dangerous than all the crawlers we've seen put together_, she thought, just before she was suddenly grabbed by many sets of hands.

"Hey!" she cried as her unknown captors held her tightly, as they carefully but efficiently stripped her clothes off. "What the hell's going on?"

They muttered to each other, something Jane couldn't make out. She tried to struggle against them, but the hands were uniformly powerful, each holding her so tightly she could barely move.

Adele began muttering more loudly and Jane realized it wasn't just that they'd been speaking too quietly for her to understand, it was that the words they were saying didn't make sense.

_Tongues. They're speaking in tongues._

"Maura!" Jane shouted, straining as hard as she could against a grip that offered no relief. "Maura!"

"She is with Granddad," one of the shadowy figures whispered ecstatically. "He is welcoming her to the flock."

Adele's gibberish grew louder, more frenzied, and the voices of the others rose to meet it. Jane realized everyone in the room was a woman.

"Is this what happened?" she cried desperately. "All your men died except this Granddad person and whatever dimwits were too dumb to try to fight in the first place, so now you're—"

She didn't finish. The cacophony was reaching a fever pitch, one of the women who had taken her clothes off fell to the floor, arching her back, clutching at her chest.

_Frost_, she shouted in her head. _Frost, you better get your ass in here guns blazing_.

She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, hoping against hope that Frost would come bursting through the door, she didn't even care that she was naked, she didn't even care—

She didn't have time to finish the thought before the many hands lifted her, still struggling, and carried her a few steps to what looked to be a large tub.

"The Devil is here!" Adele suddenly cried, her voice huge in the small room. "The Devil is in this one, who has stolen into our sanctuary! We shall strike thee from the soul of this daughter who has come to us in a time of great struggle, we shall force out the black heart of Satan so that the pure love of the Lord may fill her ravaged vessel!"

_Baptism. Great. Probably don't mention the Catholic school around these people_.

She barely had time to take a breath before she was plunged fully into the tub, the air freezing in her chest as she hit the icy water. She tried to come back up for a gasping breath but realized the hands were holding her down, were pushing her under the water. She thrashed desperately, trying to find air, but the hands kept pushing her down.

She realized she had to be still, that no amount of struggling would cause them to relent, and maybe if she went limp, they'd think it was God coming in or the Devil going out or whatever it was they wanted from her. She closed her eyes and stopped moving. The hands still pushed down on her, iron pistons driving her to the bottom of the tub.

She opened her eyes.

Through the wavering, glittering water she saw several distorted faces staring down at her, heavily shadowed. The edges of her vision grew blurry. She opened her mouth, a silvery air bubble drifting lazily to the surface. Jane watched it travel up with a detached interest, everything turning soft and blank.

_Maura_, she thought as the world went black.

* * *

"Jane!" Maura screamed as the unknown attackers bound her tightly, carrying her off the field, away from the blackened pyre. She glanced back and saw Granddad, his face and hands lifted to the sky; she glanced at the people clustered behind the pyre, ropes around their wrists and ankles, tied together at the waist.

_Like slaves. Like sacrifices_.

"Jane!" she cried again. One of her captors—Maura couldn't see them very clearly, but she thought it might be a woman—reached up and knocked her hard on the head. Maura didn't lose consciousness, but the blow had served its purpose and she fell silent. The force of it had caused her vision to go slightly blurry; it seemed as though everyone here was much stronger than they seemed, though Maura reasoned it could also be that they'd endured so much hardship and had disappeared so completely into their beliefs that they were operating with a different kind of strength. She'd read about it before, cult members exhibiting superhuman abilities through the power of suggestion, and she supposed the kind of intense deprivation everyone appeared to be suffering from would lead them toward being exceptionally susceptible to the influence of a charismatic leader. And that leader, Granddad—

_Daughter of darkness. Daughter of strength_.

Maura felt her stomach twist as she recalled the heat of his touch on her face, the intensity of it. Obviously he had a powerful charismatic ability, and it must be so easy to lead starving people if the promised result was salvation, though Maura felt even more anxious after she'd seen the fire blazing in Granddad's eyes, the idea that he might believe wholeheartedly in his delusions, enough to burn innocent people alive to satisfy his vengeful God.

_There are terrible things in the world, Maura. Things you cannot even imagine_.

She gasped as the group of faceless attackers kicked open a side door to a large, dark barn and threw her unceremoniously into an empty stall. She hit her head hard against the wooden wall, feeling dizzy and nauseous as the group left as silently as they'd come, leaving her bound, terrified, helpless.

Maura breathed deeply and evenly for a few minutes, trying to orient herself.

_Jane_.

She had to think. She had to focus. She had to get out of there, to save Jane. She wished desperately for Frost and Carmen to come bursting in through the door, but she didn't have time to wait. She worked herself to a sitting position, trying to suppress the faint sickness that still spun in her after the blows to her head.

She closed her eyes and breathed evenly until the world settled. She glanced around her, the morning light filtering in through the cracks in the barn's plank walls. She seemed to be alone, though after straining her ears for a moment she detected the faint snort of horses. She stood up carefully, slowly, not wanting to spook them and draw attention to herself.

Once she was standing, leaning against the wall of the barn, the sharp scent of manure mixing with the dull moist smell of old hay, she began pulling herself along the walls, feeling for anything she could use to sever the ropes at her wrists. She gasped sharply as she cut her palm on a broken nail and hoped—though didn't believe—it wasn't rusty. Blood dripped down her fingers as she rubbed the rope against the sharp edge, her heart pounding as she kept a close watch on the door.

Finally she felt the rope begin to split, and worked furiously until she felt it break and slide to the ground. She rubbed her wrists gingerly, careful not to get blood all over her hands. The wound wasn't deep but it cut from one end of her palm to the other, bleeding profusely, making her fingers slippery as she worked the knot at her ankles free.

Unencumbered, she peered out from the stall she'd been thrown in, holding her breath as she waited until she was sure she didn't hear anyone moving toward the barn. She edged past the empty stalls, toward the horses.

"Hello," she whispered to a thin chestnut mare. The horse backed up, alarmed, but didn't whinny at her approach. She held out her uninjured hand, allowing the horse to press its velvety muzzle against the skin of her palm. "What are we going to do?" she said softly. "Hmm?" The horse bowed its head, allowing her to scratch behind its ears. "How are we going to get out of here?"

Maura pressed her cheek to the horse's neck, closing her eyes, letting the rhythms of the animal soothe her. She hadn't been riding in years but she always felt calmed by their presence; she hoped taking this moment to allow herself to stand still would help her think.

She remembered the deer in the woods at the safehouse outside Sudbury, the way its absolute quiet had fascinated her, had made her realize there was a whole world still carrying on outside the nightmare she found herself in. She remembered the deer's enormous liquid eyes. She remembered Diana's eyes, sliding shyly away from her own.

_Don't think about it_.

She pressed herself more tightly against the horse's thin body; the animals didn't appear to be maltreated but she supposed it would be difficult to keep feeding horses when there clearly wasn't enough for the surviving humans to eat. She thought about Jane running up to her at the edge of the field, drenched by the sudden storm, she thought about Jane leaning in and kissing her without a word.

_There are terrible things in the world, Maura, but there is so much beauty, there is so much good, there is her, you have to save her, you can't do this without her—_

The horses in the barn suddenly shifted anxiously, their tails switching rapidly back and forth. Maura stood up, listening carefully. She heard faint shouting, far from the barn, and the roar of an engine.

The horses began to stomp and whinny as the shouting grew closer. It seemed to be primarily women's voices, though Maura felt a chill down her spine as she heard the sonorous bellow of Granddad, issuing commands she couldn't quite make out.

"Something is happening out there," she whispered to the horse. The mare whinnied in response, tossing its head. "Shhh," Maura murmured. "It's all right, you're safe with me."

_I'll keep you safe_.

She winced. The horse pressed its muzzle to her collarbone, hot breath causing her to shiver. The voices grew louder; the sound of the engine was becoming clearer.

Suddenly the horses began to pace and kick, and Maura realized they were trying to get out of the barn. She glanced at the broad, latched door making up one wall of the interior corral area.

"I don't know what's out there," she whispered sadly. "I'm sorry, I can't open the door." She kept her hand on the horse's stringy mane, trying to calm it. She was on the verge of darting out of the corral to escape the increasing restlessness of the animals when she realized the smell of smoke was much stronger than it had been a moment ago.

She looked frantically around her until she spotted a billow of smoke coming from a far corner of the barn. The voices outside were so close, were nearly upon her, and the horses were panicking as the fire rapidly began licking up the ancient wooden walls.

"Okay," she breathed as the horse began to nicker and stamp more anxiously. "I'll open the door, but you have to help me too."

She took a deep breath, uncertain if she could accomplish what she was intending to try.

_You can do this, Maura. It's been years, but you can do it. You haven't forgotten how, you just haven't done it in a while_.

The horse she'd been talking to followed her to the barn door, seemed to wait patiently for her to wrench the large plank up from the hooks holding it fast, held back as the other five or six horses burst into the yard, galloping hard and fast away from the fire. Maura glanced at the chestnut mare, took a deep breath, grabbed a handful of its mane, and pushed herself off the ground as hard as she could, praying she would make it.

She gasped as her leg cleared the horse's back, and swung herself as firmly as she could onto the animal. She'd ridden bareback before, had always loved the wildness of it, but she gripped the horse tightly as she squeezed her heels softly against its sides.

The horse needed no additional encouragement and bolted from the barn, nearly tossing Maura to the ground, but she bit her lip and held on.

She didn't even look where the horse was taking her, just closed her eyes and prayed. The shouts of the townspeople grew fainter behind her; she imagined the burning barn and escape of all the horses, which she supposed were essential to them for transportation and labor, would be of more pressing concern than the woman they'd tied up and meant to—what? Burn anyway?

Maura shuddered as she briefly contemplated the myriad fates Granddad and his flock could have had in store for her, though as she gripped the horse tightly she gave a silent thanks to it for saving her from whatever unimaginable end they'd envisioned.

Once she'd been riding blind for a few moments she cracked her eyes open and saw the world rushing past in a rapid green-brown blur. She eased back on the horse, its pace slowing enough to allow her to see the billowing smoke behind her, though whether from the barn or the pyre she didn't know.

_Don't think about it_.

Instead she thought about Jane, realized she'd left Jane behind. "Come on, girl," she said, leading the horse back around. It struggled against her for a moment until she whispered "please," then turned and headed back toward the town, shying clear of the burning barn.

_Let me find her_, she prayed silently, to anyone or anything that would listen. _Please, I have to find her_.

The blood pounding in her ears, the shouts of the townspeople, the sharp cracks of the timbers as the barn began to buckle under its own fiery weight, made her almost miss the sound of a car engine until it was almost on top of her. She glanced down, saw a dusty black sedan barreling toward her_._

_Frost_.

The car pulled up even with her, and the passenger window rolled down.

"Maura!" Carmen shouted. "Maura, we've got Jane, we have to get out of here!"

"This horse doesn't have brakes," she shouted back. "I'll try to stop her, but it's been a while."

"We'll be here," Frost called. Maura glanced in the back seat and saw Jane sprawled across it, wrapped in a dingy white sheet.

"What happened?" Maura cried.

"She's okay, just . . . stop your horse, all right? We're about to hit a dead end."

Maura looked up. The road ended abruptly in a thicket of young trees. She took a deep breath, quickly scanning back to her equestrian training. She hollowed her back, rolled up on her thighs, tugged gently at the mane. The horse came to an abrupt halt, suddenly so still she wouldn't have believed it had been galloping full-bore only moments before. "Thank you," she whispered as she slid clumsily off its back. The horse turned to look at her, blinking placidly. "Maybe you'll be happier out here," she said softly. "There's more to eat. And fewer lunatics." She ran her hand down the horse's neck, smiling at the accompanying toss of the head. "Thank you," she whispered again before running the few yards to where Frost had stopped.

She climbed into the back seat, careful not to bang into Jane who appeared to be unconscious.

"Jane?" she cried anxiously, running her hands across Jane's face. "Why is her hair wet? What happened?"

"We heard those two guys come in," Carmen said quickly. "To the house, I mean. I wanted to go in there but Barry said we had to wait until they found us or left."

"He was right," Maura said, smiling at both of them. "Thank you for rescuing us."

"Waited until they were gone then hauled ass up the mountain," Frost said as he spun the car around so it was facing west on the road out of town. "We couldn't come as soon as we wanted, but I don't figure these folks would take too kindly to us, if you know what I mean."

Maura smiled at him in the rearview mirror again. "You're very brave, thank you," she said softly. "And Jane?" She looked at Jane again, her face pale, though she seemed to be breathing steadily.

"We found her in what I guess was the church. There was a group of women holding her down in a tank."

"Purification," Maura murmured.

"Huh?"

"They were—I think they were baptizing her."

Frost shuddered. "I think she's okay," he said. "We pulled her out, she's still breathing. Those bitches—pardon my language—" Carmen and Maura shrugged—"damn, they were strong. And we didn't know you were in that barn, or we probably wouldn't have set it on fire, so . . . sorry about that."

"It's fine," Maura said briskly. "It's over now. Thank you, Detective Frost. Thank you, Carmen. Were you able to save any of your supplies?"

"Trunk's full," Frost said. "Mostly weapons and ammunition. We grabbed your packs before we left."

"I made sure he didn't break any of your medical supplies," Carmen said.

"Thank you," Maura smiled.

"Maura?" Jane coughed weakly. "Maura, are you okay?"

"Shhh," Maura whispered, cradling her and kissing her forehead. "Everyone's okay. You're safe now. Detective Frost and Carmen came just in time."

"You should've seen it, Jane. Dr. Isles was riding bareback like hell."

"Lady Godiva," Jane muttered, coughing again.

"She wasn't the naked one this time," Carmen said, grinning.

"Aw, man," Jane moaned. "Don't you ever tell anyone, Frost."

"I'm trying to forget it as fast as I can," he said. "Trust me."

"Were you really riding bareback?" Jane asked, blinking up at Maura.

"Mm-hmm," she murmured, brushing a damp lock of hair away from Jane's face. "Like hell."

"I miss everything cool," Jane mumbled, tucking her head under Maura's chin.

"You just rest now, sweetheart," Maura whispered, kissing the top of her head. "We've still got a long way to go."

* * *

A/N: Yaaay! Everybody's okay! And the creepers got their damn town burned down! So it wasn't as awful as I was originally envisioning, probably because I just got back from like a week of camping and everything is too awesome to be horrible. But we're only like halfway through, so . . .

Also, one time I gave some writing advice about picking an image or action to work to or from, and for an object lesson, this chapter's image was Maura riding bareback like a bat out of hell. Silly? MAYBE. Care I? DO NOT.


End file.
